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LILIAN

ABNOLD BENNETT

By ARNOLD BENNETT

NOVELS

LILIAN

MR. PROHAGK

THB ROLL-GALL

THE PRETTY LADY

THB LION'S 8HARB

THBSB TWAIN

CLATHANOBB

HILDA LBB8WATS

THE OLD WIVB8' TALK

DENRT THB AUDACIOUS

THE OLD ADAM

HELEN WITH THB HIGH HAND

THB GATES OF WRATH

THB MATADOR OF THB FIVE

TOWNS
THB BOOK OF CARLOTTA
BURIED ALITE
A GRBAT MAN
LBONORA

WHOM GOD HATH JOINED
A MAN FROM THB NORTH
ANNA OF THB FIVE TOWN8
THB GLIMPSE
THB CITT OF PLEASURE
THB GRAND BABYLON HOTEL
HUGO

POCKET PHILOSOPHIES

8ELF AND SELF-MANAGEMENT
MARRIED LIFB
FRIENDSHIP AND HAPPINESS
THB HUMAN MAOHINB

HOW TO LIVE ON 24 HOURS ▲

DAY
LITERARY TASTE
MBNTAL EFFICIENCY

THB AUTHORS CRAFT

PLAYS

THE LOVE MATCH

BODY AND 80UL

SACRED AND PROFANE LOVE

JUDITH

THB TITLB

THB GREAT ADVENTURE
CUPID AND COMMONSBN8B
WHAT THE PUBLIC WANTS
POLITB FARCES
THB HONEYMOON

In Collaboration With edward knoblock

MILESTONES

MISCELLANEOUS

OUR WOMBN

BOOKS AND PBRSON8

PARI8 NIGHTS

THB TRUTH ABOUT AN AUTHOR

LIBERTY !

OVER there: WAR SCENBS

NEW YORK: GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

L I LI A'* 1 "' "-'

ARNOLD BENNETT

NEW 1ST YORE
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

TO NEV/ yon* '

PUBLIC LIBRARY

1.66611A

A«Tfl|« | LXNOX AND

nLD*H JOUN0AT1UN8

* 1*34 I.

LILIAN. X

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF A1CERIQA

BERTIE SULLIVAN

AND

AMARYLLIS

WITH AFFECTION AND GRATITUDE

CONTENTS
Part One

aura »A6*

I Thi Girl Alone 11

II Early Years 19

III Advice to the Young Beauty . . . 28

IV The Clubman 44

V The Devotee 61

VI The Telephone 70

Part Two

I The Suicide 79

II The Maladt 85

III Shut 103

IV The Vizier 114

V The Martyr • 125

VI The Invitation 186

VII The Avowal . 144

VIII Philosophy of the Grey-haired . . 156

Part Three

I In the Hotel 165

II The Bio Yacht 175

III The Casino 185

vii

vin Contents

CHAPTm

IV Chemin db Feb

V In the Hills .

VI The Benefactress

VII The Doctor

VIII Marriage

IX The Parting

X The Wreath

•i (•: m fri [•:

Part Four

I The Return . . . • . w w ••. *

II Miss Grig • • • :.-, m > « 5

III The Lieutenant . . • . ., .-. • i

IV The New Employer . • • . • . 5
V Layette • • • • • S

PART ONE

LILIAN

Part One

THE GIRL ALONE

LILIAN, in dark blue office frock with an
embroidered red line round the neck and
detachable black wristlets that preserved the
ends of the sleeves from dust and friction, sat
idle at her flat desk in what was called "the
small room" at Felix Grig's establishment in
Clifford Street, off Bond Street. There were
three desks, three typewriting machines and
three green-shaded lamps. Only Lilian's
lamp was lighted, and she sat alone, with dark-
ness above her chestnut hair and about her,
and a circle of radiance below. She was
twenty-three. Through the drawn blind of
the window could just be discerned the backs

of the letters of words painted on the glass:

12 Lilian

"Felix Grig, Typewriting Office. Open day
and night." Seen from the street the legend
stood out black and clear against the faintly
glowing blind. It was 11 P. M.

That a beautiful young girl, created for
pleasure and affection and expensive flattery,
should be sitting by herself at 11 P. M. in
a gloomy office in Clifford Street, in the centre
of the luxurious, pleasure-mad, love-mad West
End of London seemed shocking and contrary
to nature, and Lilian certainly so regarded it.
She pictured the shut shops, and shops and
yet again shops, filled with elegance and cost-
liness — robes, hats, stockings, shoes, gloves,
incredibly fine lingerie, furs, jewels, perfumes
—designed and conf ected for the setting-off
of just such young attractiveness as hers. She
pictured herself rifling those deserted and
silent shops by some magic means and emerg-
ing safe, undetected, in batiste so rare that
her skin blushed through it, in a frock that was
priceless and yet nothing at all, and in warm
marvellous sables that no blast of wind or mis-
fortune could ever penetrate — and diamonds
in her hair. She pictured thousands of smart

The Girl Alone 13

women, with imperious command over rich,
attendant males, who at that very moment
were moving quickly in automobiles from the-
atres towards the dancing-clubs that clustered
round Felix Grig's typewriting office. At that
very moment she herself ought to have been
dancing. Not in a smart club; no! Only in
the basement of a house where an acquaintance
of hers lodged ; and only with clerks and things
like that; and only to a gramophone. But
still a dance, a respite from the immense ennui
and solitude called existence !

She had been kept late at the office because
of Miss Grig's failure to arrive. Miss Grig,
sister of Felix, was the mainspring of the
establishment, which, except financially, be-
longed much more to her than to Felix. Miss
Grig energized it, organized it, and disciplined
it, in addition to living it. Hers had been the
idea — not quite original, but none the less
very valuable as an advertisement — of remain-
ing open all night. Clever men 'would tell
simpletons in men's clubs about the typewrit-
ing office that was never closed — example of
the inexhaustible wonderfulness of a great

14 Lilian

^^™^ m ^—— ^^^^—^ mm ^^^^———^^^^— —————— mm ^™^^

capital I — and would sometimes with a wink
and a single phrase endow the office with a
dubious and exciting reputation. Miss Grig
herself was the chief night-watcher. She ex-
ulted in vigils. After attendance in the after-
noon, if her health was reasonably good, she
would come on duty again at 8 p. m. and go
home by an early tube train on the following
morning. One of the day staff would remain
until 8 p. m. in order to hand over to her;
as a recompense this girl would be let off at
4 p. m. instead of 6 p. m. the next day. Justice
reigned; and all the organization for dealing
with rushes of work was inspired by Miss
Grig's own admirable ideas of justice.

On this night Lilian had been appointed to
stay till 8 o'clock. Eight o'clock — no Miss
Grig. Eight-thirty o'clock — no Miss Grig.
Nine, 9.30, 10 o'clock — no Miss Grig. And
now 11 o'clock, and no Miss Grig. It was
unprecedented, and dreadfully disturbing.
Lilian even foresaw a lonely, horrible night in
the office, with nothing but tea, bread-and-
butter, and the living gas-stove to comfort
her. Agonizing prospect! She had spent

The Girl Alone 15

^— — — ^ — — ^— — — ■ — — ^ — — —

nights in the office before, but never alone.
She felt that she simply could not support the
ordeal; yet — such was the moral, invisible
empire of absent Miss Grig — she dared not
shut up the office and depart. The office
naturally had a telephone, but most absurdly
there was no telephone at the Grigs' house —
Felix's fault — and so Lilian could only specu-
late upon the explanation of Miss Grig's
absence. She speculated melodramatically.

Then her lovely little ear, quickened by ap-
prehension, heard footsteps on the lower
stairs. Heavy footsteps, but rapid enough!
She flew through the ante-room, to the outer
door and fearfully opened it, and gazed down-
wards to the electric light that, somehow
equivocally, invited wayfarers to pass through
the ever-open street-door and climb the
shadowy steps to the second storey and behold
there strange matters.

A villainous old fellow was hurrying up the
echoing stairs. He wore a pea-jacket and a
red cotton muffler. A moment ago she had
had no thought of personal danger. Now, in
an instant, she was petrified with fright. Her

i6 Lilian

face turned from rose to grey. ... Of
course it was a hold-up ! Post-offices, and box-
offices of theatres, and even banks had been
held up of late. Banks, Felix Grig had heard,
were taking precautions. Felix had suggested
that he too ought to take precautions — re-
volvers, alarm-bells, etc. — but Miss Grig, not
approving, had smiled her wise, condescending
smile, and nothing had been done. Miss Grig
(thought Lilian) had no imagination — that
was what was wrong with her !

"Miss!" growled hoarsely the oncoming
bandit, "Give us a match, will ye ?"

Yes, they always began thus innocently, did
robbers. Lilian tried to speak and could not.
She could not even dash within and bang and
bolt the door. With certain crises she might
possibly be able to deal, but nbt with this sort
of crisis. She was as defenceless as a blossom,
She thought passionately that destiny had no
right to put her in such a terrible extremity,
and that the whole world was to blame. She
felt as once women used to feel in the sack of
cities, faint with fear — and streaks of
thrilled, eager, voluptuous anticipation run-

The Girl Alone 17

y^— m^— — — — — — —1— —— — — — — — — —

ning through the fear! She reflected that the
matches were on the mantlepiece over the gas-
stove.

The man stood on the landing. He had an
odour. He was tall ; he would have made four
of Lillian. She knew that it was ridiculous to
retreat into the office and find the matches de-
manded ; she knew that the matches were only
a pretext; she knew that she ought to hit on
some brilliant expedient for outwitting the
bandit and winning eternal glory in the eve-
ning papers; but she retreated into the office
to find the matches. He followed heavily
behind her. He was within her room! . . •
She could not have turned to face him for ropes
of great pearls.

"Give us a box, miss. It's a windy night.
Two of me lamps is blown out, and I dropped
me matches into me tea-can — ha, ha! — and I
ain't got no paper to carry a light from me
fire, and I ain't seen a bobby for an hour. No,
I hain't, though you wouldn't believe me."

Lilian was suddenly blinded by the truth.
The roadway of Clifford Street and part of
Bond Street was in the midst of a process of

1 8 Lilian

deep excavation; it was acutely "up," to the
detriment of traffic and trade; and this fel-
low was the night-watchman who sat in a
sentry-box by a burning brazier. She recog-
nised him. . . .

"Thank ye kindly, miss, and may God bless
yer! I knowed ye was open all night. Good
night. Hope I didn't frighten ye, miss." He
laughed grimly, roguishly, and honestly.

When he was gone Lilian laughed hysteri-
cally. She did not at all want to laugh, but she
laughed. Then she dropped into her chair
and wept with painful sobbing violence. And
as, regaining calm, she realized the horrors
which might have happened to her, the resent-
ment in her heart against destiny and against
the whole world grew intense and filled her
heart to the exclusion of every other feeling.

EARLY YEARS

MISS SHARE, as she was addressed in
the office, was the only child of an art-
master, and until she found the West End she
had lived all her life in a long Putney "road,"
of which no house could truthfully say that it
was in any way better than or different from
its neighbours. This street realized the ideal
of equality before God. It had been Lilian's
prison, from which she was let out for regular
daily exercise, and she hated it as ardently as
any captive ever hated a prison. Lionel Share
had had charge over the art side of an enor-
mous Polytechnic in another suburb. In youth
he had won a National Scholarship at South
Kensington, and the glory of the Scholarship
never faded — not even when he was elected
President of the Association of Art Masters.
He was destined by fate to be a teacher of art,
and appointed by heaven to be a headmaster

20 Lilian

and to reach the highest height of artistic
pedagogy. He understood organization; the
handling of committees, of under-masters and
of pupils ; the filling-up of forms ; the engaging
of models ; and he understood profoundly the
craft of pushing pupils successfully through
examinations. His name was a sweet odour in
the nostrils of the London County Council.
He rehabilitated art and artists in Putney,
which admitted that it had had quite a wrong
notion of art and artists, having hitherto re-
garded art as unmanly, and artists as queer,
loose, bankruptcy-bound fellows ; whereas Mr.
Share paid his rent promptly, went to Margate
for his long holiday, wore a frock-coat, at-
tended church, and had been mentioned as a
suitable candidate for the Putney Borough
Council. Until Mr. Share, Putney had never
been able to explain to itself the respectability
of the National Gallery, which after all was
full of art done by artists. The phenomenon
of Mr. Share solved the enigma, — the Old
Masters must have been like Lionel Share.

At home Mr. Share was a fat man with a
black beard and moustache, who adored his

Early Years 21

daughter and loved his wife. A strict monog-
amist, whose life would bear the fullest in-
vestigation, he was nevertheless what is
euphemistically called "uxorious." He re-
turned home of a night — often late, on ac-
count of evening-classes — with ravishment.
He knew that his wife and daughter would be
ready to receive him, and they were. He
kissed and fondled them. He praised them to
their faces, asserting that their like could not
be discovered among womankind, and he re-
peated again and again that his little Lilian
was very beautiful. He ate and drank a good
supper. If he loved his wife he loved also eat-
ing and drinking. Now and then he would ar-
rive with half a bottle of champagne sticking
out of his overcoat pocket. Not that he came
within a thousand miles of "drinking"! He
did not. He would not even keep champagne
or any wine (except Australian burgundy) in
the house; but he would pop in at the wine-
merchant's when the fancy took him.

He seldom worried his dears with his pro-
fessional troubles. Only if organization and
committees were specially exasperating would

22 Lilian

he refer, and then but casually, to the darker
side of existence. As for art, he never men-
tioned it, save to deride some example of
Continental" or "advanced" or "depraved" or
perverse" art (comprehensively described as
"futurist") , which had regrettably got into the
pages of The Studio, the only magazine to
which he subscribed. Nor did he ever in his
prime paint or sketch for pleasure. But at the
beginning of every year he would set to work
to do a small thing or two for the Royal
Academy, which small thing or two were often
accepted by the Royal Academy, though never,
one is sorry to say, sold. The Royal Academy
soiree was Lilian's sole outlet into the great
world. She could not, however, be as enthu-
siastic about it as were her father and mother;
for in the privacy of her mind she held the
women thereat to be a most dowdy and frumpy
lot.

The girl loved her father and mother; she
also pitied her mother and hated her father.
She pitied her mother for being an utterly
acquiescent slave with no will of her own, and
hated her father because he had not her am-

Early Years 23

bition to rise above the state of the frumpy
middle middle-class — and for other reasons.
The man had realized his own ambitions, and
was a merry soul sunk in contentment. The
world held nothing that he wanted and did
not possess. He looked up to the upper
classes without envy or jealousy, and read
about them with ingenuous joy. He had no in-
stinct for any sort of elegance.

Lilian was intensely ambitious, yearning
after elegance. She saw illustrated advertise-
ments of furniture in The Studio and of attire
in the daily papers and compared them with
the smug ugliness of the domestic interior and
her plain frocks; and was passionately sad.
She read about the emancipation of girls and
about the "new girl," and compared this
winged creature with herself. Writers in
newspapers seemed to assume that all girls
were new girls, and Lilian knew the awful
falsity of the assumption. She rarely left
Putney, unless it was to go by motor-bus to
Kew Gardens on a Saturday afternoon with
papa and mamma. She did not reach the West
End once in a thousand years, and when she

24 Lilian

did she came back tragic. She would have
contrived to reach the West End oftener, but,
though full of leisure, she had no money for
bus fares. Mr. Share never gave her money
except for a specific purpose ; and she could not
complain, for her mother, an ageing woman,
never had a penny that she must not account
for — not a penny. Never I

Mr. Share could not conceive what either
of them could want with loose money. He was
not averse, he admitted, from change and
progress. With great breadth of mind he ad-
mitted that change and progress were inevi-
table. But his attitude towards these phe-
nomena resembled that of the young St.
Augustine towards another matter, who cried :
"Give me chastity, O Lord, but not yet I" In
Mr. Share's view his wife and daughter had
no business in the world ; and indeed his finest
pride was to maintain them in complete igno-
rance of the world. Even during the war he
dissuaded Lilian from any war-work, holding
that she could most meetly help the Empire to
triumph by helping to solace her father in the
terrific troubles of keeping a large art school

Early Years 25

alive under D.O.R.A. and the Conscription
Act.

Later, Mrs. Share was struck down by
cancer on the liver and died after six months'
illness, which cost Mr. Share a considerable
amount of money — lavishly squandered, cheer-
fully paid. Mr. Share was heartbroken; he
really grew quite old in a fortnight; and his
mute appeal to Lilian for moral succour and
the balm of filial tenderness was irresistible.
Lilian had lost a mother, but the main fact in
the situation was that Mr. Share had lost a
peerless wife. Lilian became housekeeper and
the two settled down together. Mr. Share
adored his daughter more than ever, and more
visibly. Her freedom, always excessively
limited, was now retrenched. She was trans-
fixed eternally as the old man's prop. Her
twenty-first birthday passed — and not a word
as to her future, as to a marriage for her, or
as to her individuality, desires, hopes! She
was papa's cherished darling.

Then Mr. Share caught pneumonia, through
devotion to duty, and died in a few days ; and
at last Lilian felt on her lovely cheek the winds

26 Lilian

of the world; at last she was free. Of high
paternal finance she had never in her life heard
one word. In the week following the funeral
she learnt that she would be mistress of the
furniture and a little over one hundred pounds
net. Mr. Share had illustrated the ancient
maxim that it is easier to make money than
to keep it. He had held shipping shares too
long and had sold a fully-paid endowment in-
surance policy in the vain endeavour to replace
by adventurous investment that which the sea
had swallowed up. And Lilian was helpless.
She could do absolutely nothing that was worth
money. She could not begin to earn a liveli-
hood. As for relatives, there was only her
father's brother, a Board School teacher with
a large vulgar family and an income far too
small to permit of generosities. Lilian was
first incredulous, then horror-struck.

Leaving the youth of the world to pick up
art as best it could without him, and fleeing to
join his wife in paradise, the loving, adoring
father had in effect abandoned a beautiful
idolized daughter to the alternatives of starva-
tion or prostitution. He had shackled her

Early Years 27

wrists behind her back and hobbled her feet
and bequeathed her to wolves. That was what
he had done, and what many and many such
fathers had done, and still do, to their idolized
daughters.

Herein was the root of Lilian's awful binn-
ing resentment against the whole world, and
of a fierce and terrible determination by fair
means or foul to make the world pay. Her
soul was a horrid furnace, and if by chance
Lionel Share leaned out from the gold bar of
heaven and noticed it, the sight must have
turned his thoughts towards hell for a pleasant
change. She was saved from disaster, from
martyrdom, from ignominy, from the un-
namable, by the merest fluke. The nurse who
tended Lionel Share's last hours was named
Grig. This nurse had cousins in the type-
writing business. She had also a very kind
heart, a practical mind, and a persuasive man-
ner with cousins.

Ill

ADVICE TO THE YOUNG BEAUTY

"/^OME, come now, now poor girl! You
^-^ surely aren't crying like this because
you've been kept away from your dance to-
night."

Lilian gave a great start, and an "Oh!"
and, searching hurriedly for a handkerchief
inadequate to the damning of torrents, dried
up her tears at the source, but could not im-
mediately control the sobs that continued to
convulse her whole frame.

"N-no! Mr. Grig," she whimpered feebly.

Then she snatched at a sheet of paper and
began to insert it in the machine before her,
as though about to start some copying.

"Miss Grig is rather unwell," said Felix
Grig. "She insisted that I should come up,
and so I came." With that he tactfully left
the room, obeying the wise rule of conduct

Advice to the Young Beauty 29

under which a man conquers a woman's weep-
ing by running away from it.

Lilian's face was red; it went still redder.
She was tremendously ashamed of being
caught blubbering, and by Mr. Grig I It would
not have mattered if one of the girls had sur-
prised her, or even Miss Grig. But Mr. Grig!
Nor would it have mattered so much if circum-
stances had made possible any pretence, how-
ever absurd and false, that she was not in
fact crying. But she had been trapped beyond
any chance of a face-saving lie. She felt as
though she had committed a sexual impro-
priety and could never look Mr. Grig in the
eyes again. At the same time she was pro-
foundly relieved that somebody belonging to
the office, and especially a man, had arrived
to break her awful solitude. . . .

So Mr. Grig knew that she had a dance that
night ! There was something piquant and dis-
composing in that. Gertie Jackson must have
chattered to Miss Grig — they were as thick as
thieves, those two, or at any rate the good-
natured Gertie flattered herself that they were
—and Miss Grig must have told Felix. (Very

30 Lilian

discreetly the girls would refer among them-
selves to Mr. Grig as "Felix.") Brother and
sister must have been talking about her and
her miserable little dance. Still, a dance was
a dance, and the mere word had a glorious
sound. Nobody except herself knew that her
dance was in a basement. ... So he had
not come to the office to relieve and reassure
her in her unforeseen night-watch, but merely
to placate his sister! And how casually,
lightly, almost quizzically, he had spoken 1
She was naught to him — a girl typist, one
among a floating population of girl typists.

Miss Grig had no distinction — her ankles
proved that — but Felix was distinguished, in
manner, in voice, in everything he did. Felix
was a swell, like the easy fl&newrs in Bond
Street that she saw when she happened to go
out of the office during work-hours. It was
said that he had been married and that his wife
had divorced him. Lilian surmised that if the
truth were known the wife more than Felix
had been to blame.

All these thoughts were mere foam on the
great darkly heaving thought that Felix had

Advice to the Young Beauty 31

* — - , — -

horribly misjudged her. Not his fault, of
course ; but he had misjudged her. Crying for
a lost dance indeed! She terribly wanted him
to be made aware that she was only crying
because she had experienced an ordeal to
which she ought not to have been exposed and
to which no girl ought to have been exposed.
Miss Grig again ! It was Miss Grig, not Felix,
that had sneered at hold-ups. There had been
no hold-up, but there might have been a hold-
up, and in any case she had passed through the
worst sensations of a hold-up. Scandalous 1

Anxious to be effective, she took up tho
typing of a novel which had been sent in by
one of their principal customers, a literary
agency, and tried to tap as prosaically as if the
hour were 11.80 a. m. instead of 11.30 p. m.
Bravado! She knew that she would have to
do the faulty sheet again; but she must im-
prest Felix. Then she heard Felix calling
from the principals' room :

"Miss Share. Miss Sharer A little im-
patient as usual

"Yes, Mr. Grig." She rushed to the mirror
and patted herself with the tiny sponge that

32 Lilian

* - i ■ i ■ i

under Miss Grig's orders was supposed to be
employed for wetting postage-stamps — but
never was so employed save in Miss Grig's
presence.

"I shall tell him why I was crying," she said
to herself as she crossed the ante-room. "And
I shall tell him straight."

He was seated on the corner of the table in
the principals' room, and rolling a cigarette.
He had lighted the gas-stove. A very slim
man of medium height and of no age, — he
might have been thirty-five with prematurely
grizzled hair, or fifty with hair younger than
the wrinkles round his grey eyes I Miss Qrig
had said or implied that she was younger than
her brother, but the girls did not accept with^
out reserve all that Miss Grig might say or
imply. He had taken off his overcoat and
now displayed a dinner-jacket and an ador-
ably soft shirt. Lilian had never before seen
him in evening-dress, for he did not come to
the office at night and nobody expected him
to come to the office at night. He was wonder-
fully attractive in evening-dress, which he car-
ried with the nonchalance of regular custom.

Advice to the Young Beauty 53

So different to her father, who put on cere-
monial attire about three times a year, and
wore it with deplorable self -consciousness, as
though it were a suit of armour! Mr. Grig
w&$ indeed a queer person to run a typewriting
office. Lilian was aware that he had been to
Winchester and Cambridge, and done all man-
ner of unusual things before he lit on type-
writing.

"Any work come in to-night, Miss Share?"
he demanded in the bland, kindly, careless,
official tone which he always employed to the
girls, — a tone rendering the slightest famil-
iarity impossible. "Anybody called?"

Lilian knew that he was merely affecting an
interest in the business, acting the role of man-
aging proprietor. He had tired of the busi-
ness long ago, and graciously left all the real
power to his sister, who had no mind above
typewriting.

"Someone did come in just before you, Mr.
Grig," Lilian replied, seizing her chance, and
in a half -challenging tone she related the ad-
venture with the night-watchman. "It was
that that upset me, Mr. Grig. It might have

34 Lilian

been a burglar — I made sure it was. And me
all alone "

"Quite! Quite!" he stopped her. "I can
perfectly imagine how you must have felt.
You haven't got over it yet, even. Sit down.
Sit down." He said no word of apology for
his misjudgment of her, but his tone apolo-
gized. /

"Oh! I'm perfectly all right now, thank
you."

"Please!" He slipped off the table and
pulled round Miss Grig's chair for her.

She obediently sat down, liking to be agree-
able to him. He unlocked his own cupboard
and brought out a decanter and a liqueur glass.
"Drink this."

"Please what is it?"

"Brandy. Poison." He smiled.

She smiled, sipped, and coughed as the spirit
burned her throat.

"I can't drink any more," she appealed.

"That's all right. That's all right."

It was his humorous use of the word
"poison" that touched her. This sole word
changed their relations. Hitherto they had

Advice to the Young Beauty 35

never for a moment been other than employer
and employed. Now they were something
else. She was deeply flattered, assuaged, and
also excited.* Brought up to scorn employ-
ment, the hardest task for her in her situa-
tion in the Grig office had been to admit by
her deportment that there was a bar of class
between her employer and herself. The other
girls addressed Mr. Grig as "Sir"; but she —
never! She always called him "Mr. Grig,"
and nothing could have induced her to say
"Sir." Now, he was protecting her; he had
become the attendant male ; his protection en-
veloped her like a soft swansdown quilt, ex-
quisite, delicious. And it was night. The
night created romance. Romance suddenly
filled the room like a magic vapour, transform-
ing him, herself, and the commonest objects of
the room, into something ideal.

"Several times I've wanted to speak to you
about a certain matter," said Mr. Grig quietly;
and paused, gazing at the smoke from his
cigarette.

"Oh, yes?" Lillian murmured nervously,
and strove to accomplish the demeanour of a

36 Lilian

^— — •mm—m—m — ill 1 — — 111 I

young woman of the world. (She much re-
gretted that she had her wristlets on. ) As he
was not looking at her she could look at his
face. And she looked at it as though she had
never seen it before, or with fresh-perceiving
eyes. A very clever, rather tired face; supe-
rior, even haughty, self -sure; fastidious, dis-
satisfied, the face of one accustomed to choose
sardonically between two evils; impatient,
bitter; humorous, with hints of benevolence.
She thought : "Of course he's never spoken to
me because of his sister. Even he has to mind
his p's and q's with her. And he's one that
hates a fuss. Now she isn't here "

She could not conceive what might be the
"certain matter." She thrilled to learn it; but
he would not be hurried. No, he would take
his own time, Mr. Grig would. This was the
most brilliant moment of her life.

He said, looking straight at her and forc-
ing her to look straight at him :

"You know you've no business in a place like
this, a girl like you. You're much too highly
strung for one thing. You aren't like Miss
Jackson, for instance. You're simply wasting

Advice to the Young Beauty 37

yourself here. Of course you're terribly in-
dependent, but you do try to please. I don't
mean try to please merely in your work. You
try to please. It's an instinct with you. Now
in typing, you'd never beat Miss Jackson.
Miss Jackson's only alive, really, when she's
typing. She types with her whole soul. You
type well — I hear — but that's only because
you're clever all round. You'd do anything
well. You'd milk cows just as well as you'd
type. But your business is marriage, and a
good marriage! You're beautiful, and as I
say, you have an instinct to please. That's the
important thing. You'd make a success of
marriage because of that and because you're
adaptable and quick at picking up. Most
women when they're married forget that their
job is to adapt themselves and to please.
That's their job. They expect to be kowtowed
to and spoilt and humoured and to be free to
spend money without having to earn it, and
to do nothing in return except just exist— and
perhaps manage a household, pretty badly.
They seem to forget that there are two sides
to a bargain. It's dashed hard work, pleas-

38 Lilian

-t I I I !■■■■■ _ I - " *

ing is, sometimes. I know that. But it isn't
so hard as earning money, believe me! Now
you wouldn't be like the majority of women.
You'd keep your share of the bargain, and
handsomely. If you don't marry, and marry
fifty miles above you, you'll be very silly. For
you to stop here is an outrage against common-
sense. It's merely monstrous. If I wasn't
an old man I wouldn't tell you this, naturally.
Now you needn't blush. I expect I'm not far
off thirty years older than you — and you're
young enough to be wise in time."

She was blushing tremendously, and in spite
of an effort of courage her gaze at length
dropped from his. At length his gaze shifted,
on the pretext of dropping cigarette-ash very
carefully into an ash-tray.

He had, then, been thinking about her all
those months, differentiating her from the
others, summing her up ! And how well he had
summed her up, and how well he had expressed
himself — so romantically (somehow) and yet
with such obvious truth! (Of course he had
been having a dig at his own wife, who had
divorced him! You could see how embittered

Advice to the Young Beauty 39

he was on the subject of wives!) She won-
dered if he had thought her beautiful for long.
Fancy him moving about the office and form-
ing ideas about all of them, and never a sign,
never the slightest sign that he could tell one
of them from another! And he had chosen
that night to reveal his mind to her. She was
inexpressibly flattered. Because Mr. Grig
was clearly a connoisseur, — she had always felt
that. If Mr. Grig considered her beauti-
ful ... !

And in fact she had an established assurance
of beauty. She knew a good deal about her-
self. Proudly she reflected, amid her blushes,
upon the image of her face and hair — the eyes
that matched her hair, the perfectly formed
ears, the softness of the chin and the firmness
of the nose, the unchallengeable complexion,
the dazzling teeth. She was simple enough to
be somewhat apologetic about the largeness
of her mouth, unaware that a man of experi-
ence flees from a small rosebud mouth as from
the devil, and that a large mouth is the certain
sign of goodwill and understanding in a
woman. She was apologetic, too, about the

40 Lilian

scragginess of her neck, and with better reason.
But the wrists and the ankles, the legs, the
shoulders, the swelling of the hips, the truly
astounding high, firm, and abundant bosom!
Beyond criticism! And she walked beauti-
fully, throwing back her shoulders and so em-
phasizing the line of the waist at the back. She
walked with her legs and hips, and the body
swam forward above them. She had (observed
the effect thousands of times in street mirrors.
The girls all admitted that she walked
uniquely. Then, further, she had a smile
(rarely used) which would intensify in the
most extraordinary way the beauty of her
face, lighting it, electrifying the eyes, radiat-
ing a charm that enraptured. She knew that
also. A superlative physical pride rose up out
of the subconscious into the conscious, and put
her cheap pretty clothes to shame. It occurred
to her that Mr. Grig had been talking very
strangely, very unusually.

"I don't suppose I shall ever marry/' she
said plaintively. "How can I?" She meant,
and without doubt he understood: "How can
I possibly meet a man who is worth marry-

Advice to the Young Beauty 41

— ~- *

ing?" She thought with destructive disdain of
every youth who had ever reacted to her
charm. The company at the dance she had
missed seemed contemptible. They were still
dancing. What a collection of tenth-rate fel-
lows!

She became gloomy, pessimistic, as she saw
the totality of her existence and its prospects.
The home at Putney had been a prison. She
had escaped from it, but only to enter another
prison. She saw no outlet. She was trapped
on every side. She could not break out of the
infernal circle of poverty and of the conven-
tions. Not in ten years could she save enough
to keep her for a year. She had to watch every
penny. If she was mad enough to go to a
West End theatre she had to consider the dif-
ference between a half-crown and a three-
shilling pit. Thousands of men and women
negligently fling themselves into expensive
taxis, but a rise in bus fares or tube fares
would seriously unbalance Lilian's budget.
She passed most of her spare time in using a
needle to set off her beauty, but what a farce
was the interminable study and labour! She

42 Lilian

could not possibly aspire to even the best
gloves; and as for the best stockings, or the
second best ! — the price of such a pair came to
more than she could earn in a week. It was
all absurd, tragic, pitiful. She had common-
sense ample enough to see that her beauty was
futile, her ambitions baseless, and her pros-
pects nil. If she had been a vicious girl, she
might have broken through the dreadful ring
into splendours which she glimpsed and
needed. But she was not vicious.

"Pooh!" exclaimed Mr. Grig impatiently.
"You could marry anybody you liked if you
put your mind to it."

And he spoke so scornfully of her lack of
faith, so persuasively, so inspiringly, that she
had an amazing and beautiful vision of herself
worshipped, respected, alluring, seductive,
arousing passion, reciprocating passion, kind,
benevolent, eternally young, eternally lovely,
eternally exercising for the balm and solace
of mankind and a man the functions for which
she was created and endowed, — in a word,
fulfilling herself. And for a moment, in the
ecstasy of resolution to achieve the impossible,

Advice to the Young Beauty 43

she was superb and magnificent and the finest
tiling that a man could ever hope to witness.

And she thought desperately :

"I'm twenty-three already. Time is rushing
past me. To-morrow I shall be old."

After a silence Mr. Grigg said:

"You're very tired. There's no reason why
you shouldn't go home to bed."

"Indeed I shan't go home, Mr. Grig," she
answered sharply, with grateful, eager devo-
tion. "I shall stay. Supposing some work
came in! It's not twelve o'clock yet."

She surprised quite a youthful look on Mr.
Grig's face. Nearly thirty years older than
herself? Ridiculous! There was nothing at
all in a difference of years. Some men were
never old. Back in the clerks' room she got
out her vanity bag and carefully arranged her
face. And as she looked in the glass she
thought :

"After to-night I shall never be quite the
same girl again. . . . Did he really call me
in to ask me about the work, or did he only do
it because he wanted to talk to me?"

THE CLUBMAN

LILIAN was confused by a momentary
magnificent, vague vision of a man
framed in the doorway of the small room. The
door, drawn backwards from without, hid the
vision. Then there was a cough. She realized
with alarm that she had been asleep, or at least
dozing, over her machine. In the fifth of a
second she was wide awake and alert.

"Who's there ?" she called, steadying her
voice to a matter-of-fact and casual tone.

The door was pushed open, and the man who
had been a vision entered.

"I beg your pardon," said he. "I wasn't
sure whether it was the proper thing to come
in here. I looked into another room, and had
a glimpse of a gentleman who seemed to be
rather dormant."

"This is the room to come to," said Lilian,
with a prim counterfeit of a anile.

The Clubman 45

"The office is open?"

"Certainly."

As he advanced into the room the man took
off the glossy silk hat which he was wearing
at the far back of his head. He had* an over-
coat, but carried it on his left arm. He was
tall and broad—something, indeed, in the
nature of a giant — with a florid, smooth face ;
aged perhaps thirty-three. He had a way of
pinching his lips together and pressing his
lower jaw against his high collar, thus making
a false double chin or so; the result was to
produce an effect of wise and tolerant good-
humour, as of one who knew humanity, and
who while prepared for surprises was not going
to judge us too harshly. He was in full
evening-dress, and his clothes were superb.
They glistened; they fitted without a crease.
The vast curve of the gleaming stiff shirt-front
sloped perfect in its contour; the white waist-
coat was held round the stupendous form by
three topaz buttons ; from somewhere beneath
the waistcoat a gold chain emerged and van-
ished somewhere into the hinterland of his per-
son. The stout white kid gloves were thickly

46 Lilian

ridged on the backs and fitted the broad hands
as well as the coat fitted the body — it was in-
conceivable that they had not been made to
measure as everything else must have been
made to measure. The man would have been
overdressed had he not worn his marvellous
and costly garments with absolute naturalness
and simplicity.

Lilian thought:

"He must be a man-about-town, a clubman,
the genuine article."

She was impressed, secretly flustered, and
very anxious to meet him as an equal on his
own ground of fine manners. She divined
that, having entered the room once and fairly
caught her asleep, he had had the good taste
to withdraw and cough and make a new entry
in order to spare her modesty; and she was
softly appreciative, while quite determined to
demonstrate by her demeanour that she had
not been asleep.

She thought:

"Gertie Jackson wouldn't have known where
to look, in my place."

Still, despite her disdain of Gertie Jackson's

<<■

«<"

TA^ Clubman 47

deportment she felt herself to be terribly un-
proficient in the social art.

Is it anything urgent?" she asked.
Well, it is a bit urgent."

He had a strong, full, pleasant voice."

"Won't you sit down?"

"Thanks."

He sat down, disposing his hat by the side
of her machine, and his overcoat on another
chair, and drawing off his gloves.

Lilian waited like a cat to pounce upon the
slightest sign of familiarity and kill it ; for she
had understood that men-about-town regarded
girl typists as their quarry and as nothing
else. But there was no least lapse from defer-
ential propriety ; the clubman might have been
in colloquy with his sister's friend — and his
sister listening in the next room. He pulled a
manuscript from his breast-pocket, and, after
a loving glance at it, offered it to her.

"I've only just written it," said he. "And I
want to take it round to the Evening Standard
office myself in the morning before 8.80. The
editor's an acquaintance of mine and I might
get it into to-morrow afternoon's paper. In

48 Lilian

fact, it must be to-morrow or never — because
of the financial debate in the House, you see.
Topical. I wonder whether you'd be good
enough to do it for me."

"Let me see," said Lilian professionally.
"About fifteen hundred words, or hardly. Oh
yes! I will do it myself."

"That's very kind of you. Will you mind
looking at the writing? Do you think you'll
be able to make it out? I was at a bit of a
jolly to-night, and my hand's never too
legible."

Without glancing further at the manuscript,
Lilian answered:

"It's our business to make out writing."

Suddenly she gave him her full smile.

"I suppose it is," he said, also smiling. "Now
shall I call for the copy about 8 o'clock?"

"I'm afraid the office won't be open at 8
o'clock," said Lilian. "We close at 6.30 for
an hour or two. But what's the address ? Is it
anywhere near here?"

"6a Jermyn Street. You'll see it all on
the back of the last page."

"It could be delivered — dropped into your

The Clubman 49

1^ — ^ ^ » ■■ ■■■■■■ — MMM ■ ■ ■■■» ■■■!— — ^ ^— ^— ^ ^— *

letter-box — by 6.30 this morning, and you
could take it out of the box any time after
that." The idea seemed to have spontaneously
presented itself to her. She forbore to say
that her intention was to deliver the copy her-
self on her way home.

"But this is most awfully obliging of you!"
he exclaimed.

"Not at all. You see we specialize in urgent
things. . . .We charge double for night-
work, I ought to tell you— in fact, three shil-
lings a thousand, with a minimum."

"Of course ! Of course ! I quite understand
that. Perhaps you'll put the bill in the enve-
lope." He drew forth a watch that looked like
a gold half-crown. "Two o'clock. And I can
count on it being in the letter-box at six
thirty."

"Absolutely."

"Well, all I say is it's very wonderful."

She smiled again: "It's just our business."

He bowed gracefully in departing.

As soon as he was gone she looked at the
back of the last page. "Lord Mackworth."
Never having heard of such a lord, she con-

50 Lilian

suited the office Who's Who. Yes, he was
there. "Mackworth, Lord. See Fermanagh,
Earl of." She turned to the F pages. He
was the e.8. of the Earl of Fermanagh.* E.s.
meant eldest son, she assumed. One day he
would be an earl. She was thrilled.

Eagerly she read the manuscript before
starting to copy it. The subject was the fall
in the exchange value of the French franc.
"Abstruse" she called it to herself. Fright-
fully learned ! Yet the article was quite amus-
ing to read. In one or two places it was almost
funny enough to make her laugh. And Lord
Mackworth illustrated his points by the prices
of commodities and pleasure at Monte Carlo.
Evidently he had just returned from Monte
Carlo. What a figure! He had everything;
title, blood, wealth, style, a splendid presence,
perfect manners; he was intellectual, he was
clever, he was political, he wrote for the press.
And withal he was a man of pleasure, for he
had been to Monte Carlo, and that very night
he had taken part in a "jolly" — whatever a
jolly was I

No! He was not married; it was impos-

The Clubman 51

sible that he should be married. But naturally
he must keep mistresses. They always kept
mistresses. Though what a man like him
could see in that sort of girl passed Lilian.
"You could marry anybody you liked if you
put your mind to it," Mr. Grig had said. Ab-
surdly, horribly untrue! How, for instance,
could she set about to marry Lord Mackworth ?
She was for ever imprisoned; she could not
possibly, by any device, break through the
transparent, invisible, adamantine walls that
surrounded her. Beautiful, was she? Gifts,
had she? Well, she had sat opposite this lord,
close to him, in a room secure from interrup-
tion, in the middle of the night. Shfe had been
obliging. And he had not been sufficiently
interested to swerve by a hair's breadth from
his finished and nonchalant formal politeness.
Her role in relation to Lord Mackworth was
to tap out his clever article on the old Under-
wood and to deliver it herself in the chilly
darkness of the morning before going ex-
hausted to her miserable lodging ! She, lovely !
She, burning with ambition! . . • The visit
of the man of title and of parts was like an act

52 Lilian

of God to teach her the realities of her situa-
tion and the dangerous folly of dreams.

She tiptoed out of the room to see if Mr*
Grig really was asleep as Lord Mackworth
had suggested. She hoped that he was un-
conscious and that the visit was her secret.
Either he was very soundly asleep or the stir
of the arrival and departure must have awak-
ened him. If he was awake she would pretend
that she had wanted to inform him of the job
just come in, since he had previously enquired
about the course of business. If not, she would
say nothing of the affair, — merely enter up
the job in the night-book, and wait for any
inquiries that might be made before opening
her mouth.

Through the door ajar Mr. Grig could be
seen fast asleep in his padded chair. His lower
jaw had fallen, revealing a mouth studded with
precious metal. He was generally spry, in his
easy-going manner, and often had quite a
youthful air, but now there could be no mis-
take about his age, which according to Lilian's
standard of age was advanced. To Lilian
forty was oldish, fifty quite old, and sixty ven-

The Clubman 53

erable. What a contrast between the fresh,
brilliant, authentic youth of Lord Mack-
worth and the imitation juvenility of Mr.
Grig even at his spryest! The souvenir of
Lord Mackworth's physical individuality made
the sight of Mr. Grig almost repellent. She
was divided from Mr. Grig by the greatest dif-
ference in the world, the difference between
one generation and another.

She crept back, resolving to accomplish the
finest piece of typescript that had ever been
done in the office. Had she not brains to sur-
pass Gertie Jackson at anything if she chose
to try? Just as she was entering her own
room the outer door of the office opened. More
urgent work I It was Lord Mackworth again.
She stood stock-still in the doorway, her head
thrown back and turned towards him, her
body nearly within the room. Agitated by a
sudden secret anticipation, by a pleasure ut-
terly unhoped for, she gave him a nervous,
welcoming, enquiring smile, a smile without
reserve, and full of the confidence due to one
who had proved at once his reliability and his
attractiveness. She had a feeling towards him

54 Lilian

as towards an old friend. She knew that her
face was betraying her joy, but she did not
care, because she trusted him ; and moreover it
would in any case have been impossible for her
to hide her joy.

"There's just one thing," began Lord
Mackworth in a cautious whisper, though
previously he had put no restraint on his
powerful voice, and paused.

"Will you come in?" she invited him, also in
a whisper, and moved quickly from his line of
sight. He followed her, and having entered
her room, softly shut the door, which at the
previous interview had remained half open.

"Will you sit down?"

They both sat down in their original po-
sitions. Yes, they were like friends. More,
they were like conspirators. Why? What
would the next moment disclose? It seemed
to her that the next moment must unfold into
an unpredictable, beautiful blossom such as
nobody had ever seen. She was intensely ex-
cited. She desired ardently that he should
ask her to help him in some matter in which
she alone could help him. She was a touching,

The Clubman 55

wistful spectacle. All her defences had sunk
away. He could not but see that he had made
a conquest, that the city of loveliness had
Mien into his h»k

"It just occurred to me — please tell me
if I'm being indiscreet— that perhaps you
wouldn't mind doing me a little service. I
may oversleep myself in the morning, and I
can't get at my man now. Would you mind
giving me a ring up on the 'phone about six
o'clock? You see I have the telephone by my
bed, and it would be sure to wake me —
especially if you told the operator to keep on
ringing. It's very necessary I should run
along to the newspaper office and see the
editor personally as soon as he gets there.
Otherwise I might be done in. Of course I

could sit up for the rest of the night " He

laughed shortly.

Nearly opposite the end of Clifford Street,
in Bond Street, was *a hosier's shop with the
royal arms over the entrance and half-a-dozen
pairs of rich blue-and-crimson pyjamas — and
nothing else — displayed in the window against
* chaste background of panelled acacia wood.

56 Lilian

Lilian saw a phantasm of her client's lordly-
chamber, with the bed and the telephone by
the bed, and the great form of the man himself
recumbent and moveless, gloriously and im-
perfectly covered in a suit of the blue-and-
crimson pyjamas. She heard the telephone
bell ring — ring — ring — ring — ring, pertinaci-
ously. The figure did not stir. Ring — ring —
ring — ring! At last the figure stirred, turned
over, half sat up, seized the telephone, which,
pacified, ceased to ring, and the figure listened
to her voice I It was her voice that was heard
in the chamber. . . . The most sharply mas-
culine hallucination that she had ever had,
perhaps the only one. It moved her, to the
point of fright. The whole house might have
rocked under her— rocked once, and then
resumed its firmness. She felt faint, terror-
struck, and excruciatingly, inexplicably happy v
And she was ashamed ; she was shocked by tha
mystery of herself. Flushing, she bent her
face over the desk.

"Perhaps I'd better sit up all night," Lord
Mackworth added apologetically.

it'
It'

The Clubman 57

"What's your number?" she asked in a low
voice, not looking up.
Regent 1067."

'Regent 1067," she repeated the number,
even writing it on her note pad.

"You're really awfully kind. I hesitated to
suggest it. I do hope you'U forgive me."

She looked up quickly, and into his eyes.

"I shall be delighted to give you a ring,"
she said, with sweet, smiling eagerness. "It's
no trouble at all. None at all, I assure you."

She was the divine embodiment of the
human and specially feminine desire to please,
to please charmingly, to please completely, to
please with the whole force and beauty of her
individuality. The poor boy must get a few
hours' sleep. A man needed sleep ; sleep was
important to him. As for her, the woman's
task was to watch and work, and when the
moment came she would wake the man — the
child — who was incapable of waking himself.

"Well, thanks ever so much." He rose.

"I suppose you don't want a carbon of your
article as well?" she suggested.

58 Lilian

"It's an idea," he agreed. "You never know.
I think I will have a carbon."

As he was leaving he said abruptly: "Do
you know, I imagine IVe seen you before —
somewhere."

"I don't think so." She did not quite like
this remark of his. It seemed to her to be a
commonplace device for prolonging the inter-
view ; it shook her faith in his probity.

But he insisted, nodding his head.

"Yes. In Bond Street. I remember you
were wearing an exceedingly pretty hat, with
some yellow flowers in it."

She was dumbfounded, for she did possess
a pretty hat with yellow flowers in it. She had
done him an injustice. Fancy him noticing
her, admiring, remembering I It was incred-
ible. She must have made a considerable im-
pression on him. She smiled her repentance
for having doubted his probity even for a mo-
ment.

"You must have a very good memory," she
said, in her gaze an exquisite admission of his
Tightness.

"Oh! I have!"

The Clubman 59

They shook hands. In holding out her hand
she drew back her body. She had absurdly
hoped that he would offer to shake hands, not
really expecting him to do so. He departed
with unimpeachable correctness and compo-
sure. What nice discretion he had shown in
not referring earlier to the fact that her face
was not unknown to him! Most men would
have contrived to work it in at the very be-
ginning of the conversation. But he had
actually gone away, the first time, without
mentioning it.

Lilian was left in such a state of exaltation

that she could not immediately start to work.

She was ecstatically inspired with a resolution,

far transcending all previous yearnings of a

similar nature, to fulfil herself, to be herself

utterly, to bring her gifts to fruition despite

all obstacles and all impossibilities. It was not

that she desired to please Lord Mackworth

(though she passionately desired to please

him) , nor to achieve luxury and costliness and

elegance and a highly refined way of life.

These things, however important and delect-

60 Lilian

— -

able, were merely the necessary incidentals to
the supreme end of exploiting her beauty,
charm, and benevolence so that in old age she
would not have to say, "I might have been."

THE DEVOTEE

IT was after she had made some tea and was
taking at, it her desk, without milk, but
with a bun and a half left over from the pre-
vious afternoon's orgy of the small room clerks,
that Lilian had the idea of a mighty and
scarcely conceivable transgression, crime, dep-
redation. None of the f achines in the small
room was in quite first-class order. The ma-
chines were good, but they needed adjustment.
Miss G. — the clerks referred to her as Miss G.,
instead of Miss Grig, when they were critical
of her, which was often — was almost certainly
a just woman, but she was mean, especially in
the matter of wages; and she would always
postpone rather too long the summoning of a
mechanic to overhaul the typewriters. Such
delay was, of course, disadvantageous to the
°ffice, but Miss G. was like that. Lilian,
munching, instated two sheets and a new car-

62 Lilian

■ i *

bon into her machine, and then pulled them out
again with a swift swish. Why should she not
abstract Miss G.'s own machine for the high
purpose of typing Lord Mackworth's brilliant
article? It was nearly a new one.

Miss G. was a first-rate typist. She typed
all her own letters and regularly at night even
did copying ; and she always had the star ma-
chine of the office. The one objection to
Lilian's nefarious scheme was the fact that
Miss G.'s machine ranked as the Ark of the
Covenant, and the rule forbidding the profane
to lay hands on it was absolute and awful.
This rule was a necessity in the office, where
every machine amounted to an individuality,
and was loved or hated and shamelessly
intrigued for or against. Lilian knew a
little of Miss G.'s machine, for on its purchase
she had had the honour of trying it and rein-
forcing Miss G.'s favourable judgment upon
it, her touch being lighter than Gertie Jack-
son's, that amiable, tedious hack, and similar
to Miss G.'s touch.

Lilian feared lest her own machine might
give a slip towards the end of a page, throw

The Devotee 63

a line out of the straight and spoil the whole
page. Miss G.'s machine was on the small
desk beneath the window in the principals'
room. Having reflected, she decided to sin.
If Mr. Grig was awake she would tell him
squarely that her own machine was out of gear,
that all the clerks' machines were out of gear,
and if he still objected — and he might, for he
ever feared Miss G. — she would bewitch him.
She would put his own theory of her powers
into practice upon himself. She would be quite
unscrupulous ; she would stop at nothing. She
went forth excited on her raid. He was still
asleep. He might waken; if he did, so much
the worse; she must risk it. She regarded
him with friendly condescension. She had
work to do ; she had a sense of responsibility,
and she was doing the work. He, theoretically
in charge of the office, slept, probably after
a day chiefly idle, — the grey-haired, charming,
useless irresponsible. And were not all men
asleep rather absurd? She picked up the
heavy machine; one of its india-rubber shoes
dropped off, but she left that where it lay, —
there were plenty to replace it in her room.

64 Lilian

Soundlessly she left the sleeper. Triumphant,
unscrupulous, reckless, she did not care what
might happen.

At work on the article, exulting in the
smooth excellence of Miss G.'s machine, she
felt strangely happy. She liked Felix to be
asleep; she liked the obscure sensation of
fatigue at the back of her brain; she liked to
be alone in the night, amid a resting or royster-
ing world; she liked the tension of concen-
trating on the work, the effort after perfection.
The very machine itself, and the sounds of the
machine, the feel of the paper, the faint hiss
of the gas-stove, were all friendly and helpful.
How different were her sensations then from
her sensations in the pother and racket and
friction of the daytime! She forgot that she
was beautiful and born to enchant. She was
oblivious of both the past and the future. A
moral exaltation, sweet and gentle, inspired,
upheld, and exhilarated her.

She heard the outer door open. The threat-
ened interruption annoyed her almost to ex-
asperation. It was essential that she should
not be interrupted, for she was like a poet in

The Devotee 65

full flow of creation. Footsteps, someone
moving hesitatingly to and fro in the ante-
room! There was the word "Enquiries"
printed in black on the glass panel of the small
room, thrown into relief by the light within the
room, and people had not the sense to see it.
The public was really extraordinary. Even
Lord Mackworth had not at first noticed it.
Well, let whoever it might be find his way
about unaided by her. She would not budge.
If urgent work had arrived, she did not want
it, could not do it, and would not have it.

Then she caught voices. The visitor had got
into the principals' room and wakened Mr.
Grig. The voices were less audible now but
a conversation seemingly interminable was pro-
ceeding in the principals' room. The sus-
pense vexed her and interfered with the fine
execution of her task. She sighed, tapped her
foot, and made sounds of protest with her
tongue against her upper teeth. At length
both Mr. Grig and the visitor emerged into
the ante-room, still tirelessly gabbling. The
visitor went, banging the outer door. Mr.
Grig came into her room with a manuscript

66 Lilian

in his hand. Feigning absorption, she did not
look up.

"Here's something wanted for eleven in the
morning. It's going to be called for. Proof
of a witness's evidence in a law case. Very-
urgent. It's pretty long. You'd better get
on to it at once. Then one or two of them'll
be able to finish it between nine and eleven."

Lilian accused him in her mind of merely
imitating his sister's methods of organization
and partition.

"I'm afraid I can't put this aside, Mr. Grig,"
she said gravely, uncompromisingly.

"What is it?"

"It's just come in."

"I never heard anybody," Felix snapped.

Lilian thought how queer and how unjust
it was that she should be prevented by her
inferior station from turning on him and
bluntly informing him that he had been asleep
instead of managing the office.

"It's an article by Lord Mackworth for to-
morrow's Evening Standard, and it has to be
at the Standard office by half -past eight, and

The Devotee 67

IVe promised to haVe it delivered at Jermyn
Street by six-thirty."

'But who's going to deliver it?"
I am, as I go home. ,,

'But this is urgent, too. And what's more,
IVe definitely promised it," Mr. Grig pro-
tested, waving his manuscript somewhat for-
lornly. "What length's yours?"

"It's not the length. It has to be done with
the greatest care."

"Yes, that's all very well, but "

His attitude of helplessness touched her.
She smiled in her serious manner.

"If you'll leave it to me to see to, Mr. Grig,"
she said soothingly, and yet a little superiorly,
"I'll do the best I can. I'll start it anyhow.
- And I'll leave an urgent note for Miss Jack-
son about it. After all, in two hours they
ought to be able to do almost anything, and
you know how reliable Miss Jackson is. Miss
Grig always relies on her."

She held out her hand for the wretched man-
uscript. Mr. Grig yielded it up, pretending
unwillingness and uneasiness, but in reality
much relieved. A quarter of an hour later

68 Lilian

- - - — ■

he returned to her room in overcoat and hat.

"I think I may as well go home now/' said
he, yawning enormously. "I'm a bit anxious
about my sister. Nothing else likely to come
in, is there? You'll be all right, I suppose."

"Mef she exclaimed kindly. "Of course,
Mr. Grig. I shall be perfectly all right."

She wondered whether he really was anxious
about his sister. At any rate he had not the
stamina to sit up through all the night in the
office. But she, Lilian, had. She was delighted
to be alone again. She finished Lord Mack-
worth's article, read it and re-read it. Not a
mistake. She bound it and stitched it. She
entered the item in the night-book. She made
out the bill. She typed the address on the
envelope. Then, before fastening the envelope,
she read through everything again. All these
things she did with the greatest deliberation
and nicety.

At the end she had ample time to make a
start on the other work, but she could not or
would not bring herself to the new task. She
was content to write a note for Gertie John-
son, shifting all the responsibility on to Gertie.

The Devotee 69

Gertie would have to fly round and make the
others fly round. And if the work was late —
what then? Lilian did not care. Her con-
science seemed to have exhausted itself. She
sat in a blissful trance. She recalled with sat-
isfaction that she had said nothing to Felix
about Lord Mackworth having called in per-
son. She rose and wandered about the rooms,
savouring the silent solitude. The telephone
was in the principals' room. How awkward
that might have been if Felix had stayed! But
he had not stayed.

THE TELEPHONE

"TTELLO, hello! Who is it ?"
±1 "Is that Regent 1067?"

"Yes,"

"Is that Lord Mackworth?"

"Speaking. Who is it?"

"Grig's Typewriting Office. I'm so sorry
to wake you up, but you asked us to. It's just
past six o'clock."

"Thanks very much. Who is it speaking?"

"Grig's Typewriting Office."

"Yes. But your name? Miss — Miss ?"

"Oh! I see. Share. Share. Lilian Share.
. . . Not Spare, S-fe-a-r-e."

"I've got it. Share. I recognized your
voice, Miss Share. Well, it's most extraordi-
narily good-natured of you. Most. I can't
thank you enough. Excuse me asking your
name. I only wanted it so that I could thank
you personally. Article finished?"

The Telephone 71

"It's all finished and ready to be delivered.
It'll be dropped into your letter-box in about
a quarter of an hour from now. You can rely
on that."

"Then do you keep messengers hanging
about all night for these jobs?"

"I'm going to deliver it myself, then I shall
know it is delivered."

"D'you know, I half -suspected all along you
meant to do that. You oughtn't really to put
yourself to so much trouble. I don't know
how to thank you. I don't really!"

"It's no trouble at all. It's on my way
home."

"You're just going home, then? You must
he very tired."

"Oh, no! I sleep in the daytime."

"Well, I hope you'll have a good day's rest."
A laugh.

"And I hope now I've wakened you you
^on't turn over and go to sleep again." An-
other laugh, from the same end.

"No fear! I'm up now."

"I beg your pardon?"

72 Lilian

"I'm up. Out of bed." A laugh from the
Clifford Street end.

"Good-bye, then."

"Good-bye. And thanks again. By the
way, you're putting the bill with it?"

"Oh yes."

"And the carbon?"

"Yes. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Miss Share."

Lilian hung up the receiver, smiling. And
she continued to smile as she left the room
and went to her own room and took her street
things out of the cupboard and put them on.
Nothing could have been more banal, more
ordinary, and nothing more exquisite and ro-
mantic, than the telephone conversation. The
secret charm of it was inexplicable to her.
. . . She saw him standing in the blue-and-
crimson pyjamas by the bedside, a form dis-
tinguished and powerful. . . . She revelled
in his gratitude. How nice of him to ask her
name so that he might thank her personally!
He did not care to thank a nameless employee.
He wanted to thank somebody. And now she
was somebody to him.

The Telephone 73

Perhaps she had not been well-advised to
give him her Christian name. The word, how-
ever, had come out of itself. Moreover she
liked her Christian name, and she liked nice
people to know it. She certainly ought not
to have said "that" about his not turning over
and going to sleep again. No. There was
something "common" in it. But he had ac-
cepted the freedom in the right spirit, had not
taken advantage of it.

She extinguished the gas-stove, restored the
stolen typewriter, loosed the catch of the
outer door, banged the door after her, and de-
scended, holding the foolscap envelope in her
shabbily gloved hand. The forsaken solitude
of the office was behind her.

Outside, an icy mist floated over wet pave-
ments in the first dim, sinister unveiling of
the London day ! Lilian wore a thick, broad,
woollen scarf which comforted her neck and
bosom, and gave to beholders the absurd illu-
sion that she was snugly enveloped, but the
assaulting cold took her in the waist, and she
shivered. Her feet began to feel damp imme-
diately. There was the old watchman peeping

74 Lilian

1 - -*

out of his sentry-box by his glowing brazier!
He recognized her quickly enough, and with-
out a movement of the gnarled face held up
her matchbox as a sign of the bond between
them. How ridiculous to have classed him
with burglars! She threw her head back and
gave him a proud, bright and rather conde-
scendingly gracious smile.

Along Clifford Street and all down Bond
Street, the heaped dustbins stood on the kerb
waiting for the scavengers. In Piccadilly
several Lyons' horse-vans, painted in Oxford
and Cambridge blues, trotted sturdily east-
wards; one of them was driven by a woman,
wrapped in a great mackintosh, and perched
high aloft with a boy beside her. Nothing else
moving in the thoroughfare ! The Ritz Hotel,
formidable fortress of luxury, stood up arro-
gant like a Florentine palace, hiding all its
costly secrets from the scorned mob. No. 6a
Jermyn Street was just round the corner from
St. James's Street: a narrow seven-storey
building of flats, with a front door as impassive
and meaningless as the face of a footman.
Lilian hesitated a moment and relinquished her

The Telephone 75

packet into the brass-bordered letter-slit. She
heard it fall. She turned away with a jerky
gesture. She had not walked ten yards when
a frightful lassitude and dejection attacked
her with the suddenness of cholera. Scarcely
could she command her limbs to move. The
ineffable sadness, hopelessness, wretchedness,
vanity of existence washed over her and beat
her down. Only a very few could be glorious,
and she was not and never could be of the
few. She was shut out from brightness — no
better than a ragamuffin looking into a candy
window.

She descended into the everlasting lamplit
night of the Tube at Dover Street, where there
was no dawn and no sunset. And all the em-
ployees, and all the meek, preoccupied travel-
lers seemed to be her brothers and sisters in
martyrdom. Her train was nearly empty ; but
the eastbound trains — train after train — were
full of pathetic midgets urgently engaged
upon the problem of making both ends meet.
After Earl's Court the train ran up an incline
into the whitening day. She got out at the

76 Lilian

next station, conveniently near to which she
lodged.

The house was one of the heavily porched
erections of the 'fifties and 'sixties, much fallen
in prestige. The dirty kitchenmaid was giv-
ing the stone floor of the porch a lick and a
promise, so that fortunately the front door
stood open. Lilian had the tiny mean bed-
room on the second floor over the hall; in
New York it would have been termed hall-
bedroom. Nobody except the gawky, frowsy,
stupid, good-natured maid had seen her. She
shut her door and locked it. The room was
colder even than the street. She looked into
the mirror, which was so small that she had
had to arrange a descending series of nails for
it in order that piece by piece she might in-
spect the whole of herself. Her face was as
pale as a corpse. Undressing and piling half
her wardrobe on to the counterpane she slipped
into the narrow bed, ravenous for sleep and
oblivion, and drew the clothes right over her
head. In an instant she was in a paradise of
divine dreams.

PART TWO

Part Two

THE SUICIDE

THE next morning Lilian left her lodging
at the customary hour of 8.15, to join
one of the hundreds of hastening, struggling,
preoccupied processions of workers that con-
verged upon central London. She had slept
for ten hours without a break on the previous
day, risen hungry to a confused and far too
farinaceous tea, done some dressmaking by the
warmth of an oil-stove, and gone to bed again
for another enormous period of heavy slumber.
She was well refreshed; her complexion was
restored to its marvellous perf ectness ; and life
seemed simpler, more promising, and more
agreeably exciting than usual.

She had convinced herself that the Irish lord
would call at the office in person to pay his
bill ; the mysterious and yet thoroughly under-

80 Lilian

stood code that governs certain human rela-
tions would forbid him either to post a cheque
or to send his man with the money. Her only
fear was that he might already have called.
But even if he had already called, he would
call and call again, on one good pretext or an-
other until. . . . Anyhow they would meet.
. . . And so on, according to the inconsequent
logic of day-dreams in the everlasting night
of the Tube.

The dreamer had a seat in the train — one
of the advantages of living near the terminus
— but straphangers of both sexes swayed in
clusters over her, and along the whole length
of the car, and both the platforms were too
densely populated. She could not read;
nobody could read. As the train roared and
shook through Down Street station, she
jumped up to fight her way through strap-
hangers towards the platform, in readiness to
descend at Dover Street. On these early
trains carrying serious people, if you sat quiet
until the train came to your station you would
assuredly be swept on to the next station.

The Suicide 8 1

These trains taught you to meet the future
half-way.

As it happened the train stopped about a
hundred yards short of Dover Street, and
would not move on. Seconds and minutes
passed, and the stoppage became undeniably
a breakdown. The tunnels under the earth
from Dover Street back to Hammersmith
were full of stopped trains a few hundred
yards apart, and every train was full of
serious people who positively had to be at a
certain place at a certain time. Lilian's mood
changed ; the mood of the car changed, and of
the train and of all the trains. No one knew
anything; no one could do anything; the trains
were each a prison. The railway company by
its officials maintained a masterly silence as to
the origin of the vast inconvenience and calam-
ity. Rumours were born by spontaneous gen-
eration. A man within Lilian's hearing, hith-
erto one of God's quite minor achievements,
was suddenly gifted with divination and an-
nounced that the electricians at the power
station in Lots Road had gone on strike with-
out notice and every electric train in London

82 Lilian

had been paralyzed. Half an hour elapsed.
The prisoners, made desperate by the prospect
of the fate which attended them, spoke of revo-
lution and homicide, well aware that they were
just as capable of these things as a flock
of sheep. Then, as inexplicably as it had
stopped, the train started.

Two minutes later Lilian, with some scores
of other girls, was running madly through
Dover Street in vain pursuit of time lost and
vanished. Not a soul had guessed the cause
of the disaster, which, according to the eve-
ning papers, was due to an old, unhappy man
who had wandered unobserved into the tunnel
from Dover Street station with the ambition
to discover for himself what the next world
was like. This ambition had been gratified.

As Lilian, in a state of nervous exhaustion,
flew on tired wings up the office stairs she of
course had to compose herself into a semblance
of bright, virginal freshness for the day's
work, conformably with the employer's theory
that until he reaches the office the employee
has done and suffered nothing whatever. And

The Suicide 83

Miss Grig was crossing the ante-room at the
moment of Lilian's entry.

"You're twenty five minutes late, Miss
Share," said Miss Grig coldly. She looked
very ill.

"So sorry, Miss Grig," Lilian answered
with unprotesting humility, and offered no ex-
planation.

Useless to explain! Useless to assert in*
ndcence and victimization I Excuses founded
on vagaries of trains were unacceptable in
that office, as in thousands of offices. Employ-
ers refused to take the least interest in trains
or other means of conveyance. One of the
girls in tjjg room called "the large room" had
once told ifcilian that, living at Ilford, she
would leave home on foggy mornings at six
o'clock in order to be sure of a prompt ar-
rival in Clifford Street at nine o'clock, thus
allowing three hours for little more than a
dozen miles. But only in the book of dooms-
day was this detail entered to her credit. Miss
Grig, even if she had heard of it — which she
had not — would have dismissed it as of no im-
portance. Yet Miss Grig was a just woman.

84 Lilian

"Come into my room, Miss Share, will you
please?" said Miss Grig.

Lilian, apprehending she knew not what,
thought to herself bitterly that, lateness for a
delicious shopping appointment or a heavenly
appointment to lunch at the Savoy or to motor
up the river — affairs of true importance —
would have been laughed off as negligible,
whereas lateness at this filthy office was equiva-
lent to embezzlement. And she resolved anew,
and with the most terrible determination, to
escape at no matter what risks from the servi-
tude and the famine of sentiment in which she
existed.

THE MALADY

MISS GRIG'S Christian name was Isa-
bel; it was somehow secret, and never
heard in the office; and Felix, if he ever em-
ployed it, could only have done so in the sacred
privacy of the principals' room. Like her
brother, Miss Grig might have been almost
any age, but only the malice of a prisonful of
women could have seriously asserted her to be
older than Felix. Although by general con-
sent an authentic virgin, she had not the air of
one. Rather full in figure, she was neither des-
iccated nor stiff, and when she moved her soft
body took on flowing curves, so that clever and
experienced observers could not resist the in-
ference, almost certainly wrong, that in the
historic past of Isabel lay hidden some Sabine
episode or sublime folly of self-surrender. She
had black hair, streaked with grey, and mar-
vellous, troubled, smouldering black eyes that

86 Lilian

seemed to yearn and appeal. And yet in an
occasional gesture and tone she would become
masculine.

She went wrong in the matter of clothes,
aspiring after elegance and missing it through
a fundamental lack of distinction, and also
through inability to concentrate her effects.
Her dresses consisted of ten thousand details
held together by no unity of conception. Thin
gold chains wandered, apparently purposeless,
over her rich form; they would disappear like
a railway in a cutting and then pop out un-
expectedly in another part of the lush rolling
countryside. The contours of her visible gar-
ments gave the impression that the concealed
system of underskirts, cache-corsets, corsets,
lingerie, hose and suspenders was of the most
complicated, innumerable and unprecedented
variety. And indeed she was one of those
women who, for the performance of the morn-
ing and evening rites, trebly secure themselves
by locks and bolts and blinds from the slightest
chance of a chance of the peril of the world's
gaze.

The purchase of the typewriting business by

The Malady 87

Felix had changed Miss Grig's life from top
to bottom. It had transformed her from a
relic festering in sloth and frustration into the
eager devotee of a sane and unassailable cult.
The" business was her perversity, her passion.
It was her mystic husband fecundating her
with vital juices, the spouse to whom she
joyously gave long nights of love. Apart
from the business, and possibly her brother,
she had no real thoughts. The concern as it
existed in Lilian's time was her creation. She
would sacrifice anything to it, her own health
and life, even the lives and health of tender
girls. Yes, and she would sacrifice her con-
science to it. She would cheat for it. The
charges for typewriting were high — for she
had established a tradition of the highest-class
work and rates to match — but this did not
prevent her from seizing any excuse to inflate
the bills. The staff said that her malpractices
sufficed every year to pay the rent. And she
was never more priestess-like, more lofty and
grandiose, than when falsifying an account.

Lilian found her seated alone in fluent dig-
nity at the great desk.

88 Lilian

"Yes, Miss Grig?"

"May I enquire?" asked Miss Grig in grave
accents not of reproach but of pain, "why you
did not put in an appearance yesterday, Miss
Share?"

"Well, madam/' Lilian answered with sur-
prise and gentle rebuttal, "I stayed here all
the night before and I was so tired I slept all
day. I didn't wake up until it would have been
too late to come/'

"But you knew I was unwell, and that I
should count on you upper girls to fill my
place. Or you should have known. What if
you were tired? You are young and strong;
you could have stood it easily enough, and
there was much work to be done. In a crisis
we don't think about being tired. We just
keep on. And even if you did sleep all day,
I suppose it never occurred to you in the eve-
ning that someone would be needed to take
charge during last night. The least you could
have done would have been to run up and see
how things were. But no I You didn't even
do that ! Shall I tell you who did take charge
last night? Miss Jackson. She'd been on

The Malady 89

duty the whole day yesterday. She stayed all
night till six o'clock. And she was back again
at nine o'clock this morning — twenty-five min-
utes before you. And when I told her to go
back home, she positively refused. She defied
me. That's what I call the true spirit, my
dear Lilian."

Miss Grig ceased; only her lustrous, re-
proachful eyes continued the harangue. She
had shown no anger. She had appealed to
Miss Share's best instincts.

The address "my dear Lilian" caused mis-
givings in the employee's bosom. Lilian knew
that it was Felix and not Miss Grig who had
admitted her to employment, and that Miss
Grig had been somewhat opposed to the en-
gagement. She also guessed that Miss Grig
objected to her good looks, and was always
watchful for an occasion to illustrate her
theory that a girl might be too good-looking.
And the tone of the words "my dear Lilian"
had menace in its appealing, sad sweetness.
Miss Grig had been known to deviate without
warning into frightful inclemency, and she

90 Lilian

always implacably got the last ounce out of
her girls.

The culprit offered no defence. There was
no defence. Assuredly she ought to have run
up on the previous evening. Miss Grig had
spoken truth — the notion of running up had
simply not occurred to the preoccupied Lilian.
Nevertheless, while saying naught, she kept
thinking resentfully: "Here I worked over
twenty hours on end and this is my reward—
a slating I This is my reward — a nice old
slating!" With fallen face and drooping
lower lip she moved to leave. She was ready
to cry.

"And there's something else, Miss Share.
Now please don't cry. When Mr. Grig came
up the night before last to tell you that I was
unwell, you ought not to have allowed him to
stay. You know that he can't stand night-
work. Men are not like us women "

"But how could I possibly " Lilian in-
terrupted, quite forgetting the impulse to cry.

"You should have seen that he left again
at once. It would have been quite easy —
especially for a girl like you. The result is

The Malady 91

that he's been a wreck ever since. It seems he
stayed till four o'clock and after. I tried my
best to stop him from coming at all; but he
would come. . . . Please, please, think over
what I've said. Thank you."

Lilian felt all the soft, cruel, unopposable
force of Miss Grig's individuality. She
vaguely and with inimical deference compre-
hended the secret of Miss Grig's success in
business. Youth and beauty and charm, qual-
ities so well appreciated by Felix, so rich in
promise for Lilian, were absolutely powerless
against the armour of Miss Grig. To Miss
Grig Lilian was no better than a cross-eyed,
flat-bosomed spinster of thirty-nine. Not a
bit better ! Perhaps worse ! Miss Grig actu-
ally had the assurance to preach to Lilian the
nauseous and unnatural doctrine that men are
by right entitled to the protection and self-
sacrifice of women.

Moreover Miss Grig, without knowing it,
had convinced Lilian that her ideas concerning
Lord Mackworth were the hallucinations of an
excessively silly and despicable kind of brain.
And even if Lord Mackworth did playfully

92 Lilian

attempt to continue the divertisement begun
in the romantic night, Miss Grig, by the sure-
ness of her perceptions and the bland piti-
lessness of her tactics, would undoubtedly
counter him once and for all. The two women
so acutely contrasted in age, form and tem-
perament, had this in common — that they
secretly and unwillingly respected each other.
But the younger was at present no match at
all for the elder.

And yet Lilian was not cast down — neither
by the realization of her awful silliness and
of her lack of the sense of responsibility, nor
by her powerlessness, nor by the awaking from
the dream of Lord Mackworth. On the con-
trary, she was quite uplifted and agreeably
excited, and her brain was working on lines of
which Miss Grig had absolutely no notion
whatever. Miss Grig, obviously truthful, had
said that she had tried to prevent her brother
from coming to the office on the last night but
one. Miss Grig had been ready enough to let
Lilian stay till morning without a word. But
Felix had told Lilian that he had come to the

The Malady 93

office to warn her at his sister's urgent request.
Why had Felix lied?

The answer clearly was that he had had a
fancy to chat with Lilian alone, without
Lilian's suspecting his fancy. And in fact he
had chatted with Lilian alone and to some
purpose. . . . The answer was that Felix was
genuinely interested in Lilian. Further, Miss
Grig suspected this interest. If Gertie Jack-
son had happened to be on duty that evening,
would Miss Grig have opposed her brother's
coming? She would not. Finally, Miss Grig
herself had confessed, perhaps unthinkingly,
that Lilian was not without influential at-
tributes. The phrase "especially for a girl like
you" shone in the girl's mind.

She went into the small room, which was
at the moment empty. The cover had not
been removed from her own machine, but the
other two machines were open, and Millicent's
was ammunitioned with paper. Lilian could
hear Milly, who shared the small room with
herself and Gertie Jackson, dividing work and
giving instructions in an important, curt voice
to the mere rabble of girls in the large room.

94 Lilian

To Lilian's practised sense there was through-
out the office an atmosphere of nervous dis-
turbance and unease. Mr. Grig being absent,
she felt sure that before the end of the day — >
probably just about tea-time — the electrical
fluid would concentrate itself in one spot and
then explode in a tense, violent, bitter and yet
only murmured scene between two of the girls
in the large room — unless of course she her-
self and Millicent happened to get across one
another.

She took off her things and put them in the
clothes cupboard. Gertie's hat and jacket
were absent, which meant that Gertie was
already out somewhere on the firm's business.
Millicent's precious boa was present instead
of her thick scarf, which meant that Millicent
was to meet at night the insufferably pert
young man from the new branch of Lloyds
Bank in Bond Street. The pert young man
would dine Millicent at the Popular Cafe in
Piccadilly, where for as little as five shillings
two persons might have a small table to them-
selves, the aphrodisiac of music, and the in-
genuous illusion of seeing Life with a capital.

The Malady 95

Now Lilian never connected Life with any-
thing less than the Savoy, the Carlton, and
the Ritz. Lilian had been born with a sure
instinct in these high matters. She looked at
the contents of the clothes cupboard and de-
spised them, furiously — and in particular
Millicent's boa; anybody could see what that
was; it would not deceive even a bank clerk.
Not that Lilian possessed any article of attire
to surpass the boa in intrinsic worth! She
did not. But she felt no envy in regard to
the boa, and indeed never envied any girl the
tepth-rate — no, nor the second-rate I Her de-
sire was for the best or nothing ; she could not
compromise. The neighbouring shop-windows
had effectively educated her because she was
capable of self -education. Millicent and Ger-
tie actually preferred the inferior displays of
Oxford Street.

She gazed in froward insolence at the work
room full of stitching girls on the opposite side
of the street. They were toiling as though
they had been toiling for hours. Customers
had not yet begun to be shown into the elegant
apartment on the floor below the workrooms.

96 Lilian

Customers were probably still sipping tea in
bed with a maid to help them, and some of
them had certainly never been in a Tube in
their lives. Yet the workgirls, seen broadly
across the street, were on the average younger,
prettier, daintier, and more graceful than the
customers. Why then . . . ? Etc.

The upper floors of all the surrounding
streets were studded with such nests of heads
bent over needles. There were scores and
scores of those crowded rooms, excruciat-
ingly feminine. "Modes et Robes" — a charm-
ing vocation I You were always seeing and
touching lovely stuffs, laces, feathers, and
confections of stuffs. A far more attractive
occupation than typewriting, Lilian thought.
Sometimes she had dreamt of a change, but
not seriously. To work on other women's
attire, knowing that she could never rise to
it herself, would have broken her heart.

Quickly she turned away from the window,
still uplifted — passionately determined that
one day she would enter the most renowned
and exclusive arcana in Hanover Square, and
not as an employee either ! Then, on that day,

The Malady 97

would she please with the virtuosity of a great
pianist playing the piano, then would she
exert charm, then would she be angelic and
divine; and when she departed there should
be a murmur of conversation. She smiled her
best in anticipation; her fingers ran smooth-
ingly over her blouse.

Gertie Jackson came in and transformed
the rehearsed smile into an expression of dis-
satisfaction and hostility far from divine; the
fingers dropped as it were guiltily ; and Lilian
remembered all her grievances and her trag-
edy. Gertie Jackson's bright, pleasant, clear,
drawn face showed some traces of fatigue, but
no sign at all of being a martyr to the indus-
trial system or to the despotism of individual
employers. She was a tall, well-made girl of
twenty-eight, and she held herself rather
nicely. She was kindly, cheerful, and of an
agreeable temper — as placid as a bowl of
milk. She loved her work, regarding it as of real
importance, and she seemed to be entirely with-
out ambition. Apparently she would be quite
happy to go on altruistically typing for ever
and ever, and to be cast into a typist's grave.

98 Lilian

Lilian's attitude towards her senior col-
league was in various respects critical. In the
first place the poor thing did not realise that
she was growing old-already approaching
the precipice of thirty! In the second place,
though possessed of a good figure and face,
she did nothing with these great gifts. She
had no desire to be agreeable; she was agree-
able unconsciously, as a bird sings; there was
no merit in it. She had no coquetry, and not
the slightest inclination for chic. Her clothes
were "good" and bought in Upper Street,
Islington; her excellent boots gave her away.
She was not uninterested in men; but she did
not talk about them, she twittered about them.
To Lilian she had the soul of an infant. And
she was too pure, too ingenuous, too kind, too
conscientious; her nature lacked something
fundamental, and Lilian felt but could not
describe what it was — save by saying that she
had no kick in either her body or her soul. In
the third place, there was that terrible absence
of ambition. Lilian could not understand
contentment, and Gertie's contentment exas-
perated her. She admitted that Gertie was

The Malady 99

faultless, and yet she tremendously despised
the paragon, occasionally going so far as to
think of her as a cat.

And now Gertie straightened herself, stuck
her chest out bravely, according to habit, and
smiled a most friendly greeting. Behind the
smile lay concealed no resentment against
Lilian for having failed to appear on the pre-
vious evening, and no moral superiority as a
first-class devotee of duty. What lay behind
it, and not wholly concealed, was a grave sense
of responsibility for the welfare of the busi-
ness in circumstances difficult and complex.

"Have you seen Miss Grig?" she asked
solemnly.

"Yes," said Lilian, with a touch of careless
defiance; she supposed Gertie to be delicately
announcing that Miss G. had been lying in
wait for her, Lilian.
"Doesn't she look simply frightfully ill?"
"She does," admitted Lilian, who in her
e gotism had quite forgotten her first impres-
sion that morning of Miss G.'s face. "What
is it?"

Gertie mentioned the dreadful name of one

Aw>

100 Lilian

of those hidden though not shameful maladies
which afflict only women — but the majority
of women. The crude words sounded oddly
on Gertie's prim lips. Lilian was duly im-
pressed ; she was as if intimidated. At inter-
vals the rumour of a victim of that class of
diseases runs whisperingly through assem-
blages of women, who on the entrance of a
male hastily change the subject of talk and
become falsely bright. Yet every male in the
circle of acquaintances will catch the rumour
almost instantly, because some wife runs to
inform her husband, and the husband informs
all his friends.

"Who told you?" Lilian demanded.

"Oh I I've known about it for a long time,"
said Gertie without pride. "I told Milly just
now, before I went out. Everybody will know
soon." Lilian felt a pang of jealousy. "It
means a terrible operation," Gertie added.

"But she oughtn't to be here!" Lilian ex-
claimed.

"No!" Gertie agreed with a surprising
sternness that somewhat altered Lilian's esti-
mate of her. "No! And she isn't going to

The Malady 101

be here either! Not if I know itl I shall see
that she gets back home at lunch-time. She's
quarrelled already with Mr. Grig this morn-
ing about her coming up."

"Do you mean at home they quarrelled?"

"Yes. He got so angry that he said if she

came he wouldn't. He was quite right to be

aagry of course. But she came all the same."

"Miss G. must have told Gertie all that

herself," Lilian reflected. "She'd never be as

confidential with me. She'd never tell me

anything!" And she had a queer feeling of

inferiority?

"We must do all we can to help things,"
said Gertie.

"Of course I" agreed Lilian, suddenly soft-
ened, overcome by a rush of sympathy and a
strong impulse to behave nobly, beautifully,
forgivingly towards Miss G.

Nevertheless, though it was Gertie's atti-
tude that had helped to inspire her, she still
father disdained the virtuous senior. Lilian

a ppreciated profoundly — perhaps without be-

•

^g able to put her feeling into words — the
heroic madness of Miss G. in defying common-

102 Lilian

sense and her brother for the sake of the be-
loved business. But Gertie saw in Miss G.'s
act nothing but a piece of naughty and sick
foolishness. To Lilian Miss G. in her super-
ficial yearning softness became almost a ter-
rible figure, a figure to be regarded with awe,
and to serve as an exemplar. But in contem-
plating Miss G. Lilian uneasily realized her
own precariousness. Miss G. was old and
plain (save that her eyes had beauty) , and yet
was fulfilling her great passion and was impos-
ing herself on her environment. Miss G. was
doing. Lilian could only be; she would al-
ways remain at the mercy of someone, and the
success which she desired could last probably
no longer than her youth and beauty. The
transience of the gifts upon which she must
depend frightened her — but at the same time
intensified anew her resolves. She had not a
moment to lose. And Gertie, standing there
close to her, sweet and reliable and good, in
the dull cage, amid the daily circumstances
of their common slavery, would have under-
stood nothing of Lilian's obscure emotion.

Ill

SHUT

THE two girls had not settled to work
when the door of the small room was
pushed cautiously open and Mr. Grig came in
— as it were by stealth. Milly, prolonging her
sweet hour of authority in the large room, had
not yet returned to her mates. By a glance and
a gesture Mr. Grig prevented the girls from
xxxy exclamation of surprise. Evidently he
^a,s secreting himself from his sister, and he
Bcixist have entered the office without a sound.
^te looked older, worn, worried, captious — as
though he needed balm and solace, and treat-
ment at once firm and infinitely soft. Lilian,
^ho a few. minutes earlier had been recalcitrant
to Miss Grig's theory that women must pro-
tect men, now felt a desire to protect Mr.
Q-rig, to save him exquisitely from anxieties
***isuited to his temperament.

He shut the door, and in the intimacy of the

103

104 Lilian

room faced the two girls,. one so devoted, the
other perhaps equally devoted but whose de-
votion was outshone by her brilliant beauty.
For him both typists were very young, but
they were both women, familiar beings whom
the crisis had transformed from typists into
angels of succour ; and he had ceased to be an
employer and become a man who demanded
the aid of women and knew how to rend their
hearts.

"Is she in there?" he snapped, with a move-
ment of the head towards the principals' room.

"Yes," breathed Lilian. "Yes," said Ger-
tie. "Oh! Mr. Grig, she ought never to have
come out in her state!"

"Well, God damn it, of course she ought-
n't!" retorted Mr. Grig. His language, un-
precedented in that room, ought to have
shocked the respectable girls, but did not in
the slightest degree. To judge from their
demeanour they might have been living all
their lives in an environment of blasphemous
profanity. "Didn't I do everything I could
to keep her at home?"

Shut 105

"Oh! I know you did I" Gertie agreed
sympathetically. "She told me."

"I made a hades of a row with her about it
in the hope of keeping her in the house. But
it was no use. I swore I wouldn't move until
she returned. But of course I've got to do
something. Look here, one of you must go to
ler/and tell her I'm waiting in a taxi down-
stairs to take her home, and that I shall stick
in it till she gives way, even if I'm there all
day. That ought to shift her. Tell her I've
arranged for the doctor to be at the house at
a quarter to eleven. You' A better go and do
it, Miss Jackson. She's more likely to listen
to you."

"Yes, do, Gertie! You go," Lilian seconded
the instruction. Then: "What's the matter,
Gertie? What on earth's the matter?"

The paragon had suddenly blanched and she
seemed to shiver: first sign of acute emotion
that Lilian had ever observed in the placid
creature.

"It's nothing. I'm only It's really

nothing."

And Gertie, who had not taken off her

106 Lilian

i ■ ,i i

street-things, rose resolutely from her chair.
She, who a little earlier had seemed quite ener-
getic, and fairly fresh after her night's work,
now looked genuinely ill.

"You go along," Mr. Grig urged her,
ruthlessly ignoring the symptoms which had
startled Lilian. "And mind how you do it,
there's a good creature. I'll get downstairs
first." And he stepped out of the room.

The door opening showed tall, thin Millicent
returning to her own work. Mr. Grig pushed
past her on tiptoe. As soon as Gertie had
disappeared on her mission into the principals*
room, Lilian told Millicent, not without an air
of superiority, as of an Under-Secretary of
State to a common member of Parliaments
what was occurring. Millicent, who loved "in—
cidents," bit her lips in a kind of cruel pleasure-
(She had a long, straight, absolutely regular"
nose, and was born to accomplish the domestics
infelicity of some male clerk.) She made am
excuse to revisit the large room in order tcm
spread the thrilling news.

Lilian stood just behind the still open door"
of the small room. A long time elapsed-

Shut 107

Then the door of the principals' room opened,
and Lilian, discreetly peeping, saw the backs
of Miss Grig and Gertie Jackson. They
seemed to be supporting each other in their
progress towards the outer door. She won-
dered what the expressions on their faces
might be; she had no clue to the tenor of the
scene which had ended in Gertie's success, for
neither of the pair spoke a word. How had
Gertie managed to beat the old fanatic?

After a little pause she went to the window
and opened it and looked out at the pavement
below. The taxi was there. Two fore-
shortened figures emerged from the building.
Mr. Grig emerged from the taxi. Miss Grig
was induced into the vehicle, and to Lilian's
astonishment Gertie followed her. Mr. Grig
entered last. As the taxi swerved away, a
little outcry of voices drew Lilian's attention
to the fact that both windows of the large
r °om were open and full of clusters of heads.
***e entire office, thanks to that lath, Millicent,
w fcs disorganized. Lilian whipped in her own
h *ad like lightning.

At three o'clock she was summoned to thp.

io8 Lilian

telephone. Mr. Grig was speaking from a
call-office :

"Miss Jackson's got influenza, the doctor
says," he announced grimly. "So she has to
stay here. A nice handful for me. You'd
better carry on. I'll try to come up later.
Miss Grig said something about some accounts
— I don't know."

Lilian, quite unable to check a feeling of
intense, excited happiness, replied with sooth-
ing, eager sympathy and allegiance, and went
with dignity into the principals' room, now for
the moment lawfully at her mercy. The ac-
counts of the establishment were always done
by Miss Grig, and there was evidence on the
desk that she had been obdurately at work on
bills when Gertie Jackson enticed her away.
In the evening Lilian, after a day's urgent toil
at her machine, was sitting in Miss Grig's chair
in the principals' room, at grips with the day-
book, the night-book, the ledger and some bill-
forms. Although experiencing some of the
sensations of a traveller lost in a forest (of
which the trees were numerals ) , she was satu-
rated with bliss. She had dismissed the rest

Shut 109

°' the staff afc the usual hour, firmly refusing
to let anybody remain with her. Almost as a
favour Millicent had been permitted to pur-
chase a night's food for her.

Just as the clock of St. George's struck
eight, it occurred to her that to allow herself
to be found by Mr. Grig in the occupation of
Miss Grig's place might amount to a grave
failure in tact; and hastily — for he might ar-
rive at any moment — she removed all the es-
sential paraphernalia to the small room. She
had heard nothing further from Mr. Grig, who
moreover had not definitely promised to come,
but she was positive that he would come.
However late the hour might be, he would
come. She would hear the outer door open;
she would hear his steps; she would see him;
and he would see her, faithfully labouring all
alone for him, and eager to take a whole night-
watch for the second time in a week. For this
hour she had made a special toilette, with much
attention to her magnificent hair. She looked
spick-and-span and enchanting.

Nor was she mistaken. Hardly had she
arranged matters in her own room when the

no Lilian

outer door did open, and she did hear his steps.
The divine moment had arrived. He appeared
in the doorway of the room. Rather to her
regret he was not in evening dress. (But how
could he be ?) Still, he had a marvellous charm
and his expression was less worried. He was
almost too good to be true. She greeted him
with a smile that combined sorrow and sym-
pathy and welcome, fidelity and womanly com-
prehension, the expert assistant and the beau-
tiful young Eve. She was so discomposed by
the happiness of realization that at first she
scarcely knew what either of them was saying,
and then she seemed to come to herself and she
caught Mr. Grig's voice clearly in the middle
of a sentence:

". . . with a temperature of 104. The doc-
tor said it would be madness to send her to
Islington. This sort of influenza takes you
like this, it appears. I shall have it myself
next. . . . What are you supposed to be
doing? Bills, eh?"

He looked hard at her, and her eyes dropped
before his experienced masculine gaze. She
liked him to be wrinkled and grey, to be thirty

)

Shut in

years older than herself, to be perhaps even
depraved. She liked to contrast her innocent
freshnm with his worn maturity. She liked
it that he had not shown the slightest apprecia-
tion of her loyalty. He spoke only vaguely
of Miss Grig's condition; it was not a topic
meet for discussion between them, and with a
few murmured monosyllables she let it drop.

"I do hope you aren't thinking of staying,
Mr. Grig," she said next. "I shall be perfectly
all right by myself, and the bills will occupy
me till something comes in."

"I'm not going to stay. Neither are you,"
replied Mr. Grig curtly. "We'll shut the
place up.

Her face fell.

"But "

"We'll shut up for to-night."

"But we're supposed to be always open!<
Supposing some work does come in! It al-
ways does "

"No doubt. But we're going to shut up the
place — at once." There was fatigue in his
voice.

Tears came into Lilian's eyes. She had ex-

1 12 Lilian

pected him, in answer to her appeal to him
to depart, to insist on staying with her. She
had been waiting for heaven to unfold. And
now he had decided to break the sacred tradi-
tion and close the office. She could not master
her tears.

"Don't worry," he said in tones suddenly-
charged with tenderness and sympathetic
understanding. "It can't be helped. I know
just how you feel, and don't you imagine I
don't. You've been splendid. But I had to
promise Isabel I'd shut the office to-night.
She's in a very bad state and I did it to soothe
her. You know she hates me to be here at
nights — thinks I'm not strong enough for it."

"That's not her reason to-night," said Lilian
to herself. "I know her reason to-night well
enough !"

But she gave Mr. Grig a look grateful for
his exquisite compassion, which had raised him
in her sight to primacy among men.

Obediently she let herself be dismissed first,
leaving him behind, but in the street she looked
up at her window. The words "Open day and
night" on the blind were no longer silhouetted

Shut 113

Pi—— — — ^— ■ ii^ — — — — ^— — — ^ ^— ^M

against a light within. The tradition was
broken. On the way to the Dover Street Tube
she did not once glance behind her to see if he
was £ ollowing.

IV
THE VIZIER

LATE in the afternoon of the following
day Mr. Grig put his head inside the
small room.

"Just come here, Miss Share," he began,
and then, seeing that Millicent was not at her
desk, he appeared to decide that he might as
well speak with Lilian where she was.

He had heen away from the office most of
the day, and even during his presences had
seemingly taken no part in its conduct. Much
work had been received, some of it urgent, and
Lilian, typing at her best speed, had the air of
stopping with reluctance to listen to whatever
the useless and wandering man might have to
say. He merely said:

"We shall close to-night, like last night."

"Oh, but Mr. Grig/' Lilian protested — and
there was no sign of a tear this time — "We
can't possibly keep on closing. We had one

114

The Fixier 115

complaint this morning about being closed last
night. I didn't tell you because I didn't want
to worry you."

"Now listen to me," Mr. Grig protested in
his turn, petulantly. "Nothing worries me
more than the idea that people are keeping
things from me in order that I shan't be wor-
ried. My sister was always doing that; she
was incurable, but I'm not going to have it
from anyone else. If you hide things why are
you silly enough to let out afterwards that you
were hiding them and why you were hiding
them? That's what I can't understand."

"Sorry, Mr. Grig," Lilian apologized briefly
and with sham humility, humouring the male
in such a manner that he must know he was
being humoured.

His petulancy charmed her. It gave him
youth, and gave her age and wisdom. He had
good excuse for it — Miss Grig had been moved
into a nursing home preparatory to an opera-
tion, and Gertie was stated to be very ill in
his house — and she enjoyed excusing him. It
was implicit in every tone of his voice that

1 16 Lilian

they were now definitely not on terms of
employer and employee.

"That's all right ! That's all right !" he said,
mollified by her discreet smile. "But close at
six. I'm off."

"I really don't think we ought to close,"
she insisted, with firmness in her voice followed
by persuasion in her features, and she brushed
back her hair with a gesture of girlishness that
could not be ineffective. He hesitated, frown-
ing. She went on: "If it gets about that we're
closing night after night, we're bound to lose
a lot of customers. I can perfectly well stay
here."

"Yes! And be no use at all to-morrow!"

"I should be here to-morrow just the same.
If other girls can do it why can't I?" (A
touch of harshness in the question.) "Oh,
Milly !" she exclaimed, neglecting to call Milly
Miss Merrislate, according to the custom by
which in talking to the principals everybody
referred to everybody else as "Miss." "Oh,
Milly!" — Millicent appeared behind Mr. Grig
at the door and he nervously made way for
her — "Here's Mr. Grig wants to close again

The Vizier 117

to-night! I'm sure we really oughtn't to. I've
toJd Mr. Grig I'll stay — and be here to-morrow
too. Don't tfou agree we mustn't close?"

Millicent was flattered by the frank appeal
as an equal from one whom she was already
with annoyance beginning to regard as a
superior. From timidity in Mr. Grig's pres-
ence she looked down her too straight nose,
but she nodded affirmatively her narrow head,
and as soon as she had recovered from the
disturbing novelty of deliberately opposing
the policy of an employer she said to Lilian:

"I'll stay with you if you like. There's
plenty to do, goodness knows!"

"You are a dear!" Lilian exclaimed, just as
if they had been alone together in the room.

"Oh, well, have it as you like!" Mr. Grig
rasped, and left, defeated.

"Is he vexed?" Milly demanded after he had
gone.

"Of course not! He's very pleased, really.
But he has to save his face." '

Milly gave Lilian a scarcely conscious
glance of admiration, as a woman better versed
than herself in the mysteries of men, and also

Ii8 Lilian

as a woman of unsuspected courage. And she
behaved like an angel through the whole in-
dustrious night — so much so that Lilian was
nearly ready to admit to an uncharitable pre-
mature mis judgment of the girl.

"And now what are you going to do about
keeping open?" inquired Mr. Grig, with a
bland, grim triumph the next afternoon to
the exhausted Lilian and the exhausted Milli-
cent. "I thought I'd let you have your own
way last night. But you can't see any further
than your noses, either of you. You're both
dead."

"I can easily stay up another night," said
Lilian desperately, but Millicent said nothing.

"No doubt!" Mr. Grig sneered. "You look
as if you could ! And supposing you do, what
about to-morrow night? The whole office is
upset, and of course people must go and choose
just this time to choke us with work!"

"Well, anyhow we can't close" Lilian
stoutly insisted.

"No!" Mr. Grig unexpectedly agreed.
"Miss Merrislate, you know most about the
large room. You'd better pick two of 'em out

The Vizier 119

of there, and tell 'em they must stay and do
the best they can by themselves. But that
won't carry us through. I certainly shan't sit
up, and I won't have you two sitting up every
second night in turn. There's only one thing
to do. I must engage two new typists at once
—that's clear. We may as well face the situa-
tion. Where do we get 'em from?"

But neither Lilian nor Milly knew just how
Miss Grig was in the habit of finding recruits
to the staff. Each of them had been taken on
through private connections. Gertie Jackson
would probably have known how to proceed,
but Gertie was down with influenza.

"I'll tell you what I shall do," said Mr. Grig
at last. "I'll get an advertisement into to-
morrow's Daily Chronicle. That ought to do
the trick. This affair's got to be handled
quickly. When the applicants come you'd
better deal with 'em, Miss Share — in my room.
I shan't be here to-morrow."

He spoke scornfully, and would not listen
to offers of help in the matter of the advertise-
ment. He would see to it himself, and wanted
no assistance; indeed objected to assistance as

120 Lilian

being merely troublesome. The next day was
the day of Miss Grig's operation, and the
apprehension of it maddened this affectionate
and cantankerous brother. Millicent left the
small room to bestow upon two chosen mem-
bers of the rabble in the large room the in-
expressible glory of missing a night's sleep.

On the following morning, when Lilian,
refreshed, arrived zealously at the office half
an hour earlier than usual, she found three
aspirants waiting to apply for the vacant
posts. The advertisement had been drawn up
and printed; the newspaper had been dis-
tributed and read, and the applicants, pitifully
eager, had already begun to arrive from the
ends of London. Sitting in Miss Grig's chair
Lilian nervously interviewed and examined
them. One of the three gave her age as thirty-
nine, and produced yellowed testimonials. By
ten o'clock twenty-three suitors had come, and
Lilian, frightened by her responsibilities, had
impulsively engaged a couple, who took off
hats, and jackets and began to work at once.
She had asked Millicent to approve of the final
choice, but Millicent, intensely jealous and no

The Vizier 12 1

longer comparable to even the lowest rank of
angel, curtly declined.

"You're in charge," Millicent said acidly.
"Don't you try to push it on to me, Miss Lilian
Share."

Aspirants continued to arrive. Lilian had
the clever idea of sticking a notice on the outer
door: "All situations filled. No typists re-
quired." But aspirants continued to enter,
and all of them averred positively that they
had not seen the notice on the door. Lilian
told a junior to paste four sheets of typing
paper together, and she inscribed the notice
on the big sheet in enormous characters. But
aspirants continued to enter, and all of them
averred positively that they had not seen the
notice on the door. It was dreadful, it was
appalling, because Lilian was saying to her-
self: "I may be like them one day." Milli-
cent, on the other hand, disdained the entire
procession, and seized the agreeable role of
dismissing applicants as fast as they came.

In the evening Mr. Grig appeared. The
operation had been a success. Gertie Jackson
was if anything a little worse ; but the doctor

122 Lilian

anticipated an improvement. Mr. Grig showed
not the least interest in his business. Lilian
took the night duty alone.

Thenceforward the office settled gradually
into its new grooves, and, though there was
much less efficiency than under Miss Grig,
there was little friction. Everybody except
Millicent regarded Lilian as the grand vizier,
and Millicent's demeanour toward Lilian was
by turns fantastically polite and fantastically
indifferent.

A fortnight passed. The two patients were
going on well, and it was stated that there was
a possibility of them being sent together to
Felixstowe for convalescence. Mr. Grig's at-
tendance grew more regular, but he did little
except keep the books and make out the bills ;
in which matter he displayed a facility that
amazed Lilian, who really was not a bit
arithmetical.

One day, entering the large room after
hours, Lilian saw Millicent typing on a ma-
chine not her own. As she passed she read
the words: "My darling Gertie. I simply
can't tell you how glad I was to get your

The V'v&er 123

lovely letter." And it flashed across her that
Millicent would relate all the office doings to
Gertie, who would relate them to Miss Grig.
She had a spasm of fear, divining that Milli-
cent would misrepresent her. In what phrases
had Millicent told that Lilian had sat in Miss
Grig's chair and interviewed applicants for
situations? Was it not strange that Gertie
had not written to her, Lilian, nor she even
thought of writing to Gertie? Too late now
for her to write to Gertie ! A few days later
Mr. Grig said to Lilian in the small room:
"You're very crowded here, aren't you?"
The two newcomers had heen put into the
small room, being of a superior sort and not
fitted to join the rabble.

"Oh, no!" said Lilian. "We're quite com-
fortable, thank you."

"You don't seem to be very comfortable.
It occurs to me it would be better in every
way if you brought your machine into my

room."

An impulse, and an error of judgment, on

Felix's part! But he was always capricious.

"I should prefer to stay where I am," Lilian

124 Lilian

answered, not smiling. What a letter Milli—
cent would have written in order to describe-
Lilian's promotion to the principals' room!

Often, having made a mistake, Felix would
persist in it from obstinacy.

"Oh! As you like!" he muttered huffily,
instead of recognizing by his tone that Lilian,
was right. But the next moment he repeated,
very softly and kindly: "As you like ! It's for
you to decide." He had not once shown the
least appreciation of, or gratitude for, Lilian's
zeal. On the contrary he had been in the main
querulous and censorious. But she did not
mind. She was richly rewarded by a single
benevolent inflection of that stirring voice.
She seemed to have forgotten that she was
born for pleasure, luxury, empire. Work
fully satisfied her, but it was work for him.
The mere suggestion that she should sit in his
room filled her with deep joy.

THE MARTYR

MISS GRIG came back to the office on
a Thursday, and somewhat mysteri-
ously. Millicent, no doubt from information
received through Gertie Jackson, had been
hinting for several days that the return would
not be long delayed; but Mr. Grig had said
not one word about the matter until the
Wednesday evening, when he told Lilian, with
apparent casualness, as she was leaving for
the night, that his sister might be expected
the next morning. As for Miss Jackson, she
would resume her duties only on the Monday,
having family affairs to transact at Islington.
Miss Jackson, it seemed, had developed into
the trusted companion and intimate — almost
ally, if the term were not presumptuous — of
the soul and dynamo of the business. Miss
Grig and she had suffered together, they had
solaced and strengthened each other ; and Ger-

125

126 Lilian

tie, for all her natural humility, was hence-
forth to play in the office a role superior to
that of a senior employee. She had already
been endowed Math special privileges, and
among these was the privilege of putting the
interests of Islington before the interests of
Clifford Street.

The advent of Miss Grig of course con-
siderably agitated the office and in particular
the small room, two of whose occupants had
never seen the principal of whose capacity for
sustained effort they had heard such wonder-
ful and frightening tales.

At nine-thirty that Thursday morning it
was reported in both rooms that Miss Grig
had re-entered her fortress. Nobody had seen
her but ears had heard her, and moreover it
was mystically known by certain signs, as for
example, the reversal of a doormat which had
been out of position for a week, that a higher
presence was imminent in the place and that
the presence could be none other than Miss
Grig. Everybody became an exemplar of
assiduity, amiability, and entire conscientious-
ness. Everybody prepared a smile ; and there

The Martyr 127

was a universal wish for the day to be over.

Shortly after ten o'clock Miss Grig visited
the small room, shook hands with Lilian and
Millicent, and permitted the two new typists
to be presented to her. Millicent spoke first
and was so effusive in the expression of the
delight induced in her by the spectacle of Miss
Grig and of her sympathy for the past and
hope for the future of Miss Grig's health, that
Lilian, who nevertheless did her best to be
winning, could not possibly compete with her.
Miss Grig had a purified and chastened air,
as of one detached by suffering from the gross-
ness and folly of the world and existing hence-
forth in the world solely from a cold, pas-
sionate sense of duty. Her hair was greyer,
her mild equable voice more soft, and her
burning eyes had a brighter and more un-
earthly lustre. She said that she was perfectly
restored, let fall that Mr. Grig had gone away
at her request for a short, much-needed holi-
day, and then passed smoothly on to the large
room.

After a while a little flapper of a beginner
came to tell Millicent that Miss Grig wanted

128 Lilian

her. Millicent, who had had charge of the
petty cash during the interregnum, was ab-
sent for forty minutes. When she returned,
flushed but smiling, to her expectant col-
leagues, she informed Lilian that Miss Grig
desired to see her at twelve o'clock.

"I notice there's an account here under the
name of Lord Mackworth," Miss Grig began,
having allowed Lilian to stand for a few sec-
onds before looking up from the ledger and
other books in which she was apparently ab-
sorbed. She spoke with the utmost gentleness,
and fixed her oppressive deep eyes on Lilian's.

"Yes, Miss Grig?"

"It hasn't been paid."

"Oh I" Lilian against an intense volition
began to blush.

"Didn't you know?"

"I didn't," said Lilian.

"But you've been having something to do
with the books during my absence."

"I did a little at first," Lilian admitted.
"Then Mr. Grig saw to them."

"Miss Merrislate tells me that you had
quite a lot to do with them, and I see your

The Martyr 129

handwriting in a number of places here."
"I've had nothing to do with them for about
three weeks — I should think at least three
weeks, and — and of course I expected the bill
would be paid by this time."
"But you never asked?"
"No. It never occurred to me."
This statement was inaccurate. Lilian had
often wondered whether Lord Mackworth had
paid his bill, but, from some obscurely caused
self -consciousness, she had not dared to make
any inquiry. She felt herself to be somehow
"mixed up" with Lord Mackworth, and had
absurdly feared that if she mentioned the name
there might appear on the face or in the voice
of the detestable Milly some sinister innuendo.
"Miss Merrislate tells me that she didn't
trouble about the account as she supposed it
was your affair."

"My affair I" exclaimed Lilian impulsively.
"It's no more my affair than anybody else's."
She surmised in the situation some ingen-
ious malevolence of the flat-breasted mischief-
maker.

"But you did the work?"

130 Lilian

"Yes. It came in while I was on duty that
night, and I did it at once. There was no one
else to do it."

"Who brought it in?"

"Lord Mackworth."

"Did you know him?"

"Certainly not. I didn't know him from
Adam."

"Never mind Adam, Miss Share," observed
Miss Grig genially. "Has Lord Mackworth
been in since?"

"If he has I've not seen him," Lilian an-
swered defiantly. Miss Grig's geniality exas-
perated her because it did not deceive her.

"I'm only asking for information," Miss
Grig said with a placatory smile. "I see the
copies were delivered at six-thirty in the morn-
ing. Who delivered the job?"

"I did."

"Where?"

"At his address. I dropped it into the
letter-box on my way home after my night's
work. I stayed here because somebody had
to stay, and I did the best I could."

"I'm quite sure of that," Miss Grig agreed.

The Martyr 131

"And of course youVe been paid for all over-
time — and there's been quite a good deal. We
all do the best we can* At least I hope so. . . .
And you've never seen Lord Mackworth
since?"

"No."

"And you simply dropped the envelope into
the letter-box ?"

"Yes."

"Didn't see Lord Mackworth that morn-

ing?"

"Certainly not."

Bv this time Lilian was convinced that Miss
Grig's intention was to provoke her to open
resentment. She guessed also that Milly must
have deliberately kept silence to her, Lilian,
about the Mackworth account in the hope of
trouble on Miss Grig's return, and that Milly
had done everything she could that morning
to ensure trouble. The pot had been simmer-
ing in secret for weeks; now it was boiling
over. She felt helpless and furious.

"You know," Miss Grig proceeded, "there's
a rule in this office that night-work must only
be delivered by hand by the day-staff the next

132 Lilian

^— ^— — I

day. If it's wanted urgently before the day-
staff arrives the customer must fetch it."

"Excuse me, Miss Grig, I never heard of
that rule."

Miss Grig smiled again: "Well, at any rate
it was your business to have heard of it, my
dear. Everybody else knows about it."

"I told Mr. Grig I was going to deliver it
myself, and he didn't say anything."

"Please don't attempt to lay the blame on
my brother. He is far too good-natured."
Miss Grig's gaze burned into Lilian's face as,
with an enigmatic intonation, she uttered these
words. "You did wrong. And I suppose
you've never heard either of the rule that new
customers must always pay on or before de-
livery?"

"Yes, I have. But I couldn't ask for the
money at half past six in the morning, could I ?
And I couldn't tell him how much it would
be before I'd typed it."

"Yes, you could, my dear, and you ought
to have done. You could have estimated it
and left a margin for errors. That was the
proper course. And if you know anything

The Martyr 133

about Lord Mackworth you must know that
his debts are notorious. I believe he's one of
the fastest young men about town, and it's
more than possible that that account's a bad
debt."

'But can't we send in the account again?"
Lilian weakly suggested ; she was overthrown
by the charge of fast-living against Lord
Mackworth, yet she had always in her heart
assumed that he was a fast-liver.

"I've just telephoned to 6a St. James Street,
and I needn't say that Lord Mackworth is no
longer there, and they don't know where he is.
You see what comes of disobeying rules."

Lilian lifted her head: "Well, Miss Grig,
the bill isn't so very big, and if you'll please
deduct it from my wages on Saturday I hope
that will be the end of that."

It was plain that the bewildered creature
had but an excessively imperfect notion of
how to be an employee. She had taken to the
vocation too late in life.

Miss Grig put her hand to the support of
her forehead, and paused.

134 Lilian

"I can tolerate many things," said she, with
great benignity, "but not insolence."

"I didn't mean to be insolent."

"You did. And I think you had better
accept a week's notice from Saturday. No.
On second thoughts, I'll pay your wages up
to Saturday week now and you can go at
once." She smiled kindly. "That will give
you time to turn round."

"Oh! Very well, if it's like that!"

Miss Grig unlocked a drawer ; and while she
was counting the money Lilian thought de-
spairingly that if Mr. Grig, or even if the nice
Gertie, had been in the office, the disaster could
not have occurred.

Miss Grig shook hands with her and wished
her well.

"Where are you going to? It's not one
o'clock yet," asked Millicent in the small room
as Lilian silently unhooked her hat and jacket
from the clothes-cupboard.

"Out."

"What for?"

"For Miss G., if you want to know."

And she left. Except her clothes not a

The Martyr 135

thing in the office belonged to her. She had
no lien, no attachment. The departure was
as simple and complete as leaving a Tube
train. No word! No good-bye I Merely a
disappearance.

THE INVITATION

SHE walked a mile eastwards along Oxford
Street before entering a tea shop, in order
to avoid meeting any of the girls, all of
whom, except the very youngest and the very
stingiest, distributed themselves among the
neighbouring establishments for the absurdly
insufficient snack called lunch. Every place
was full just after one o'clock, and crammed
at one-fifteen. She asked for a whole meat pie
instead of a half, for she felt quite unusually
hungry. A plot ! That was what it was ! A
plot against her, matured by Miss G. in a few
minutes out of Milly's innuendos written to
Gertie and spoken to Miss G. herself. And
the reason of the plot was Miss G.'s spinsterish
passionate fear of a friendship between Felix
Grig and Lilian ! Lilian was ready to believe
that Miss G. had engineered the absence of
both her brother and Gertie so as to be free

136

The Invitation 137

to work her will without the possibility of
complications. If Miss 6. hated her, she
hated Miss G. with at least an equal fierceness
— the fierceness of an unarmed victim. The
injustice of the world staggered her. She
thought that something ought to be done about
it. Even Lord Mackworth was gravely to
blame for not having paid his bill. Still, that
detail had not much importance, because Miss
G., deprived of one pretext, would soon have
found another. After all that she, Lilian, had
done for the office, to be turned off at a
moment's notice, and without a character, —
for Miss G. would never give a reference,
and Lilian would never ask for a reference!
Never ! Nor would she nor could she approach
Felix Grig ; nor Gertie either. Perhaps Felix
Grig might communicate with her. He cer-
tainly ought to do so. But then, he was very
casual, forgetful and unconsciously cruel.

All the men and girls in the packed tea-shop
had work behind them and work in front of
them. They knew where they were ; they had
a function on the earth. She, Lilian, had
nothing, save a couple of weeks' wages and

138 Lilian

perhaps a hundred pounds in the Post Office
Savings Bank. Resentment against her father
flickered up anew from its ashes in her heart.

How could she occupy herself after lunch?
Unthinkable for her to go to her lodging until
the customary hour, unless she could pretend
to be ill; and if she feigned illness the well-
disposed slavey would be after her and would
see through the trick at once, and it would be
all over the house that something had hap-
pened to Miss Share. The afternoon was an
enormous trackless expanse which had to be
somehow traversed by a weary and terribly
discouraged wayfarer. Her father had been
in the habit of conducting his family on cere-
monial visits to the public art galleries. She
went to the Wallace Collection, and saw how
millionaires lived in the seventies and how the
unchaste and lovely ladies were dressed for
whom entire populations were sacrificed in the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Thence
to a cinema near the Marble Arch, and saw how
virtue infallibly wins after all.

When, after travelling countless leagues of
time and ennui, she reached home she received

The Invitation 139

a, note from Mr. Pladda inviting her to the
Hammersmith Palais de Danse for the fol-
lowing night. Mr. Pladda was the star lodger
in the house, — a man of forty-five, legally
separated from his wife but of impeccable
respectability and decorum. His illusion was
that he could dance rather well. Mr. Pladda
was evidently coming on.

The next morning, which was very fine,
Lilian spent in Hyde Park, marshalling her
resources. Beyond her trifling capital she had
none. Especially she had no real friends. She
had unwisely cut loose from her parents' ac-
quaintances, and she could not rim after them
now that she was in misfortune. Her former
colleagues? Out of the question I Gertie
might prove a friend, but Gertie must begin;
Lilian could not begin. Lord Mackworth?
Silly idea! She still thought of Lord Mack-
worth romantically. He was an unattainable
hero at about the same level as before in her
mind, for while his debts had lowered him
his advertised dissoluteness had mysteriously
raised him. (Yet in these hours and days
Mr. Pladda himself was not more absolutely

140 Lilian

respectable and decorous, in mind and de-
meanour, than Lilian.) She went to two
cinemas in the afternoon, and, safe in the dark-
ness of the second one, cried silently.

But with Mr. Fladda at the Palais de Danse
she was admirably cheerful, and Mr. Pladda
was exceedingly proud of his companion, who
added refined manners to startling beauty.
She delicately praised his dancing, whereupon
he ordered lemon squashes and tomato sand-
wiches. At the little table she told him calmly
that she was leaving her present situation and
taking another.

Back in her room, she laughed with horrid
derision. And as soon as she was in bed the
clockwork mice started to run round and
round in her head. A plot ! A plot ! What
a burning shame! What a burning shame!
... A few weeks earlier she had actually been
bestowing situations on pitiful applicants.
Now she herself had no situation and no pros-
pect of any. She had never had to apply for
a situation. She had not been educated to
situations. She could not imagine herself ever
applying for a situation. She had not the least

The Invitation 141

idea how to begin to try to get a situation.
She passed the greater part of Sunday in bed,
and in the evening went to church and felt
serious and good.

On Monday morning she visited the Post
Office and filled up a withdrawal form for
forty pounds. She had had a notion of be-
coming a companion to a rich lady, or private
secretary to a member of parliament. She
would advertise. Good clothes, worn as she
could wear them, would help her. ( She could
not face another situation in an office. No,
she couldn't.) The notion of a simpleton, of
course! But she was still a simpleton. The
notion, however, was in reality only a pretext
for obtaining some good clothes. All her life
she had desired more than anything a smart
dress. There was never a moment in her life
when she was less entitled to indulge herself;
but she felt desperate. She was taking to
clothes as some take to brandy. On the
Wednesday she received the money : a colossal,
a marvellous sum. She ran off with it and
nervously entered a big shop in Wigmore
Street ; the shop was a wise choice on her part,

142 Lilian

for it combined smartness with a discreet and
characteristic Englishness. Impossible to have
the dangerous air of an adventuress in a frock
bought at that shop!

The next few days were spent in exactly
fitting and adapting the purchases to her body.
She had expended the forty pounds and drawn
out eight more. Through the medium of the
slavey she borrowed a mirror, and fixed it at
an angle with her own so that she could see
her back. She was so interested and absorbed
that she now and then neglected to feel un-
happy and persecuted. She neglected also to
draw up an advertisement, postponing that
difficult matter until the clothes should be
finished. But the house gathered that Miss
Share had got her new situation. One after-
noon, early, returning home after a search for
white elastic in Hammersmith, she saw Mr.
Grig coming away from the house. She stood
still, transfixed; she flushed hotly, and de-
scried a beneficent and just God reigning in
heaven. She knew she was saved; and the
revulsion in her was nearly overwhelming. A-
miracle! And yet — not a miracle at all; fox

The Invitation 143

* - 11 1

Mr. Grig was bound by every consideration of
honour and decency to get into communication
with her sooner or later. Her doubts of his
integrity had been inexcusable.

"IVe just left a note for you," he said,
affecting carelessness. "I brought it down
myself because I couldn't remember whether
your number was 56 or 63, and I had to en-
quire. Moreover it's urgent. I want to talk
to you. Will you dine with me to-night at
the Devonshire Restaurant, Jermyn Street?
Eight o'clock. I shan't be able to dress, so you
could wear a hat. Yes or no? . . ." He was
gone again in a moment.

Lilian literally ran upstairs to her room in
order to be alone with her ecstatic happiness.
She hugged it, kissed it, smothered it; then
read the wonderful note three times and viewed
all her new clothes.

VII

THE AVOWAL

AS Lilian armed herself for the field she
discovered that after all her care, she
had omitted to provide several small details,
the absence of each of which seemed for a few
moments in turn to be a disaster. But on the
whole she was well satisfied with the total ef-
fectiveness. The slattern, who had been fur-
tively summoned, and who was made to wash
her hands before touching a hook-and-eye,
expressed, in whispers, an admiring amaze-
ment which enheartened Lilian in spite of its
uninformed quality. The girl, as if bewitched,
followed the vision down to the front door.

"If it rains you're ruined, miss," said the
girl anxiously, glancing up into the heavy
darkness where not a star was to be seen.
"You ought to have an umbrella."

Lilian shook her head.

It won't rain," she answered cheerfully.

The Avowal 145

But as soon as she was fairly away from
the house she felt, or thought she felt, a drop
of rain, and, seeing a taxi, she impulsively
hailed it, wishing to heavens the next instant
she had not been so audacious. For although
twice with her father and mother she had
ridden in taxis on very great occasions, she had
never in her life actually taken one by herself.
Her voice failed and broke as she said to the
driver, "Devonshire Restaurant, Jermyn
Street"; but the driver was proficient in com-
prehension, and the Devonshire Restaurant in
Jermyn Street seemed to be as familiar to
him as Charing Cross Station.

In the taxi she collected herself. She
thought she was all right except for her lips.
She knew that her lips ought to have been
slightly coloured, but she thought she also
knew what was the best lip-stick and she had
not been able to get it in Hammersmith. As
for her nails, she was glad that it had been im-
possible for her to tint them. She must re-
member that she was a typist, and though
typists, and even discharged typists, generally
help their lips to be crimson on state-nights,

146 Lilian

they do not usually tint their nails — unless
they have abandoned discretion.

Lilian was glad when justifying rain began
to fall. While she paid the driver at her des-
tination a commissionaire held a vast umbrella
over her fragile splendour.

Her legs literally shook as she entered the
restaurant, exactly as once they had shaken
in an air-raid. Within was a rich, tiny little
waiting-room with a view of the dining-room
beyond. She hesitated awkwardly, for owing
to the taxi she was nearly a quarter of an hour
too early. A respectful attendant said :

"Are you expecting anyone, madam ?"

"Yes."

"What name, madam?"

"Mr. Grig."

"Oh yes, madam. His table is booked."

She had sat down. She could now inspect
Tierself in half a dozen large mirrors and she
almost ceased to fear for her appearance. It
was her deportment and demeanour that now
troubled her. In this matter she was disturb-
ingly aware that she had both to unlearn and
to learn. She looked through the glass parti*

The Avowal 147

tion into the restaurant. It was small but
sumptuous; and empty of diners save for a
couple of women who were smoking and
eating simultaneously. People, chiefly in
couples, kept arriving and passing through the
ante-chamber. She picked up a copy of
Whaifs Orij pretending to study it but study-
ing the arrivals. Then she felt a man come
in and glimpsed the attendant pointing to her-
self. Mr. Grig could not entirely conceal his
astonishment at the smartness of her appear-
ance. He had in fact not immediately recog-
nized her. His surprised pleasure and appre-
ciation gave her both pleasure and confidence.

"I'm not -late," he said, resuming rapidly
his rather quizzical matter-of-f actness.

"No. I was too early."

The attendant took Mr. Grig's overcoat
like a sacred treasure; he was shown to be
in a dark blue suit; and they passed to the
restaurant.

Lilian thought :

"Anyway he can't think I've bought these
clothes specially for this affair, because he
only asked me this afternoon."

148 Lilian

The table reserved was in a corner. Lilian
had a full view of the whole restaurant, while
Mr. Grig had a full view of nothing but Lilian.
For a girl in Lilian's situation he was an ideal
host, for the reason that he talked just as nat-
urally — and in particular, curtly — as if they
had been at the office together. When a waiter
shackled in silver approached with the wine-
list, he asked:

"What wine do you prefer?"

"Whatever you prefer," she replied, with a
prompt and delicious smile.

"Oh, no!" he protested, "That won't do at
all. If a woman's given the choice she ought
to choose. She must submit ideas at any rate.
Otherwise we shall go wandering all through
the wine-list and finally settle on something
neither of us wants."

Lilian had learnt a little about wines (she
had sipped often from the paternal glass) , and
also about good plain cooking.

"Burgundy," she said.

Without another word Mr. Grig turned to
the Burgundy page, and while he was selecting
Lilian took off her gloves and gazed timidly

The Avowal 149

around. It was the silver table-lamps, each
glowing under a canopy of orange, that im-
pressed her more than anything else. She saw
shoulders, bosoms, pearls, white shirt-fronts,
black backs — the room was still filling — all
repeated in gilt mirrors. The manner of the
numerous waiters corresponded to her notion
of court chamberlains. This was the first high-
class restaurant she had ever seen, and despite
her nervousness she felt more at home in it,
more exultingly happy in it, than anywhere
before in all her existence. She passionately
loved it, and her beauty seemed to increase
in radiance. She liked to think that it was
extremely costly. Compare it to the Palais
de Danse, Mr. Pladda, and the tomato sand-
wiches! Ah! It was the genuine article at
last! She took surreptitious glances also at
Mr. Grig's bent face; and the face was so
strange to her, though just the same as of old,
that she might have been seeing it for the first
time. The greatness, the enormity of the oc-
casion, frightened her. What were they doing
there together? And what in the future would
they do together? Was he really and seriously

150 Lilian

attracted by her? Was she in love with him?
Or was it all a curious and dangerous decep-
tion? She had always understood that when
one was in love one knew definitely that one
was in love. Whereas she was sure of nothing
whatever. Nevertheless she was uplifted into
a beatific, irrational and reckless joy. Never
had she felt as she felt while Mr. Grig was
selecting the Burgundy.

"Now we'd better be getting to business,"
said he, when the hors d'oeuvre had been re-
moved and the soup served. "I had a letter
from my sister this morning. She wrote-
wait a minute !" He pulled a letter from his
pocket and read out: " Tm sorry to say I've
been compelled to get rid of poor Lilian Share.
She's a nice enough girl in her way, but when
you're not here I'm in charge of this office,
and as she couldn't treat me with the respect
due me, I had to decide at once what to do
and I did decide. I treated her generously,
and I hope she'll soon get another place. She
will of course, because she can be so very at-
tractive when she likes/ — underlined — 'but I
fear she isn't likely to keep it unless she

The Avowal 151

changes her style of behaviour/ " He smacked
the letter together and returned it to his
pocket, "There, you see ! I'm being remark-
ably frank with you, I came up from Brigh-
ton on purpose to tell you, and I'm going back
by the last train to-night. My sister is quite
unaware of this escapade. In fact at the
moment I'm leading a double life. Now! I've
given you one version of this mighty incident.
Give me your version."

Lilian, troubled, looked at her mother's en-
gagement ring on her finger — the sole jewel
she carried — and smiled with acute restraint
at her plate.

"Have you got another situation? I sup-
pose not," Mr. Grig went on.

"No— not yet."

"Have you tried for one?"

"No."

"Then what are you about?"

"Oh! My father left me a little money —
very little, but I'm not starving."

"So I should judge .... Well, tell me
all about it."

I didn't mean to be rude to her — really

«<•

152 Lilian

I didn't. It was about a small bill of Lord
Mackworth's."

She related the episode in detail, repeating
the conversation with marvellous exactitude,
but with too many "she saids, she saids," and
"I saids, I saids." Mr. Grig laughed when she
came to the offer to pay the bill herself, and
after a moment she gave a slight responsive
smile. She was very careful not to make or
even to imply the least charge against Miss
Grig, and she accomplished the duplicity with
much skill.

"I can promise you one thing," said Mr.
Grig. "The moment I get back I'll see that
Milly is sacked. I cannot stick that bag of
bones."

"Please don't!"

"You don't want me to?"

Lilian shook her head slowly.

"All right, then. I won't. Now I'll tell
you the whole business in a nutshell. My sis-
ter's a great woman. She's perfectly mad, but
she's a great woman. Only where I'm con-
cerned she's always most monstrously unscru-
pulous. I'm her religion— always was, but

The Avowal 153

more than ever since I bought that amusing
business. She was dying of boredom. It
saved her. When I got myself divorced she
was absolutely delighted. She had me to her-
self again. Her jealously where I'm con-
cerned is ferocious. She can't help it ; but it's
ferocious. Tigresses aren't in it with her.
She was jealous of you, and she'd determined
to clear you out. I've perceived that for a
long time."

"But why should she be jealous of me?
I'm sure I've never —

"Well, she's damned clever, Isabel is, and
she's seen that I'm in love with you. Gone —
far gone!"

He spoke with strange detachment, as of
another person.

The thud-thud of Lilian's heart appalled
her. She blushed down to her neck. Her
hand shook. The restaurant and all its inhab-
itants vanished in a cloud and then slowly re-
appeared. Her confusion of mind was ter-
rible. She was shocked, outraged, by the
negligently brutal candour of the avowal ; and
at the same time she was thinking: "I'd no

154 Lilian

idea that any man was as marvellous as this
man is, and I don't think there can possibly
be another man quite as marvellous anywhere.
And his being in love with me is the most rav-
ishing, lovely, tender — tender — tender thing
that ever happened to any girl. And of course
he is in love with me. He's not pretending.
He would never pretend . ..."

She wanted to be unconscious for a little
while. She did not know it, but her beautiful
face was transfigured by the interplay of shy-
ness, modesty, soft resentment, gratitude,
ecstasy and determination. Her head was
bowed and she could not raise it. Neither
could she utter a single word. She looked
divine, and thought she looked either silly or
sulky. Mr. Grig glanced aside. A glimpse
of paradise had dazzled the eternal youth in
him. The waiter bore away the soup-plates.

"Perhaps that's enough about business for
the present," said Mr. Grig at length. "Let's
talk about something else. But before we start
I must just tell you you're the most stylish
creature in this restaurant. I was staggered
when I came in and saw you. Staggered I"

The Avowal 155

She did raise her head.

"Why?" she asked with exquisite gentleness.

Mr. Grig, overwhelmed, offered no re-
sponse.

As for her determination, it amounted to
this : "I will be as marvellous as he is. I will
be more marvellous. I will be queen, slave,
everything. He doesn't guess what is in store
for him." She did not think about the dif-
ference in their ages, nor about marriage ; nor
did she even consider whether or not she was
in love with him. Chiefly, she was grateful.
And what she saw in front of her was a sublime
vocation. Her mood was ever so faintly
tinged with regret because they were not both
in evening-dress.

VIII
PHILOSOPHY OF THE GREY-HAIRED

THE evening and all Lilian's emotions
seemed to start afresh. The look of the
restaurant was changed. The tables had been
cleared of the grosser apparatus of eating, and
showed white cloths with only white plates,
fruit, small glasses, small cups, ash-trays.
Most of the waiters had vanished; the re-
mainder stood aside, moveless, inobtrusive,
watchful. The diners had abandoned them-
selves to intimacy or the sweet coma of diges-
tion. Some talked rather loudly, others in a
murmur. Women leaned back, or put their
elbows on the table, letting cigarette smoke
float upwards across their eyes. A few tables
were already deserted, and the purity of their
emptiness seemed baiflingly to demonstrate
that events may happen and leave behind ab-
solutely no trace. Without consulting Lilian
Mr. Grig gave an order and two small glasses

156

Philosophy of the Grey-Haired 157

were slowly filled to the brim with a green
liquid. Lilian recognised it for the very sym-
bol of delicate licence. She was afraid to sip,
lest she might be disillusioned concerning it,
and also lest the drinking of it might malignly
hasten the moment of departure of the last
train for Brighton.

Mr. Grig was of those who murmured. His
wrists lay one over the other on the table and
his face was over the table; and it seemed
strange, so low and even was his speech, that
Lilian could catch every word, as she did. The
people at the next table could have heard noth-
ing. All the animation and variety were in his
features, none in his tone. He had been tell-
ing her about Brighton. He saw the town
of Brighton as a living, developing whole,
discussing it as a single organism, showing how
its evolution was still in active process, and
making the small group of men who were ex-
ploiting it and directing it appear like creative
giants and the mass of inhabitants like midgets
utterly unconscious of their own manipulation.
And in his account of the vast affair there was
no right and no wrong; there were merely the

158 Lilian

dark aims and the resolution of the giants de-
termined to wax in power and to imprint them-
selves on the municipality. Lilian had never
heard such revealing talk ; she could not follow
all of it, but she was fascinated, wonderstruck;
profoundly impressed by the quality of the
brain opposite to her and the contemptibleness
of her own ignorance of life ; amazed and en-
raptured that this brain could be interested
in herself. Mr. Grig related the story of the
middle-aged proprietor of one of the chief
hotels who had married a young wife.

"He had broken up his family, and the
family is the real unit of society — and there
was no need for itl No need at alll But then
you see he'd never, had time in his existence
to understand that a middle-aged man who
has already had experience of marriage and
marries a girl young enough to be his daughter
is either a coward or a fool or without taste.
He would only do it because he's mad for her,
and that's the very reason for not doing it.
When romance comes in that way it wants the
sauce of secrecy and plotting, — the double life
and so on. The feeling of naughtiness —

Philosophy of the Grey-Haired 159

■—— — — ^— i— — — ^—— — — — — — ■ — — — — i — — 1

naughtiness is simply a marvellous feeling;
you must sometimes have guessed that, haven't
you? — perversity, doing society in the eye.
It's a continual excitement. Of course it needs
cleverness, on both sides. You haven't got to
be clumsy over it. The woman runs risks, but
nothing to the risks she'd run in marriage.
And if the thing dies out in her, and they
haven't been clumsy, she's free as air to start
again. She's got her experience gratis, and
there's a mysterious flavour about her that's
nearly the most enticing flavour on earth.
Naturally people will talk. Let 'em. No
harm in rumour. In fact the more rumour the
better." He went on with no pause. "You've
not looked at me for about five hours. Look
at me now and tell me you're disgusted. Tell
me you're frightened."

She lifted her eyes and gazed at him for a
few seconds, not smiling. Her skin tingled
and crept. Then she sipped the creme de
menthe and at first it tasted just like water.

"A woman wants making. Only a man can
make a woman. She has to be formed. She
can't do it herself. A young man may be able

160 Lilian

to do it, but he's like a teacher who swots up
the night before what he has to teach the next
day. And he's a fearful bungler, besides being
cruel — unconsciously. Whereas an older
man, a much older man — he knows 1 It's a
unique chance for both of them. She has so
much to give, and she has so much to learn.
It's a fair bargain. Perhaps the woman has a
little the best of it. Because after all she loses
nothing that it isn't her business to lose, — and
the man may, well, he may kill himself. And
the chance for a clever girl to be 'made' with-
out any clumsiness! What a chance! . . .
Well, I won't say which of 'em has the best
of it. . . . I'm speaking impartially. If you
live to be as old as Ninon de l'Enclos you'll
never meet a more honest man than I am."

Lillian felt intoxicated, but not with the
Burgundy nor with the creme de menthe.
Rather with sudden fresh air. She thought:
"Be careful! Be careful! You aren't your-
self. Something queer's come over you." She
was not happy. She was alarmed. Once be-
fore she had been alarmed by herself, but this
time she was really alarmed. She was glad

Philosophy of the Grey-Hatred 161

that she had always despised boys of her own
age. What did Mr. Grig mean by saying that
a man might kill himself? She didn't know.
• . . Yes, she knew. . . . She saw clearly that
a Woman must be formed by a man, and that
until she was formed she would not be worthy
of herself. She longed ardently to be formed.
As she stood she was futile. She could exer-
cise no initiative, make use of no opportunities ;
and her best wisdom was to remain negative-
in order to avoid mistakes. Something that
looked like a woman but wasn't one. She had
the intelligence to realize how insipid she was.
Ambition surged through her anew and with
fresh power.

Mr. Grig drove her home, and the taxi was
a little dark vibrating room in which they were
alone together, and safe from all scrutiny.
She was painfully constrained.

"Yes," said Mr. Grig, after an interminable
silence. "My sister was quite right."

"What about?" Lilian asked in a child's
voice.

"I'm in love. What are you going to do
about it?" He turned his head impulsively

I&2 Lilian

towards her, gazed at her in the dim twilight
of the taxi, and then kissed her. In spite of
herself she yearned to give, and the yearning
thrilled her,

"Please! Please!" she murmured in modest,
gentle, passive protest.

Another pause.

I shall write to you to-morrow," he said.
In the meantime, believe me you're entirely
marvellous." He was looking straight in front
of him at the driver's shaggy shoulders. That
was all that occurred, except the handshake.

When she let herself into the house the
servant was just going upstairs to bed, after
her usual sixteen-hour day.

"So you're back, miss."

"No!" thought Lilian. "It's somebody else
that's come back. The girl you mean will
never come back."

PART THREE

Part Three

IN THE HOTEL

FELIX came quietly through the com-
municating door into Lilian's shuttered
and close room. Between the two bedrooms
was a bathroom. All the bedrooms in the hotel
seemed to be designed on the same plan — too
high, too long, too narrow; with the head of
the bed behind the door and directly facing the
window ; a wardrobe, a dressing-table, a wash-
stand, a writing table, an easy chair (under
the window), two cane chairs, a night-table,
and two electric lights so devilishly arranged
that they could not be persuaded to burn simul-
taneously ; a carpet overgrown with huge, gor-
geous flowers, and the walls overgrown with
huge, gorgeous flowers of another but equally
mirific plant. Outside the bedroom a bell
rang at short intervals — all the guests in the

166

166 Lilian

neighbourhood performed, according to their
idiosyncrasies, on the same bell — and slippered
feet of servants rushing to and fro in the cor-
ridor shook the planks of Lilian's room as they
passed.

Amid the obscurity of the room Lilian's
curved form, lying heaped on its side, and
rather like a miniature mountain that sloped
softly down towards the head and towards the
feet, could be vaguely deciphered in the bed;
and hillocks of attire, some pale, others col-
oured, some fragile and diaphanous — others
resistant to the world's peering, lay dimly
about on chairs and even on the writing-table.
The air, exhausted by the night, had a faint
and delicate odour that excited, but did not
offend, Felix's nostrils.

"Is it time to get up?" Lilian murmured
in the voice of sleepy child.

"No."

Her brain slowly came to life. Flitting in
and out of her happiness there were transient
apprehensions — not about the morality but
about the security of her situation. They dis-
appeared, all except one, as soon as she looked

In the Hotel 167

firmly at them, because she had the most per-
fect confidence in Felix's good faith. The
unity of the pair had begun in London, under
conditions provided by Felix, who, however,
did not care for them, and who had decided
that he would take her away for a holiday in
order that they might both reflect upon and
discuss at length the best method of organizing
a definite secret existence.

It was during the preliminaries to the de-
parture that she had been specially struck by
his straightforwardness. He would have no
wangling with passports. She must travel as
herself. She could think of no acquaintance
qualified to sign the application for her pass-
port. It was Felix's suggestion that she
should go to the Putney doctor who had at-
tended her father and mother. The pair had
travelled separately on the same train de luxe,
for which, with Felix's money, she bought her
own ticket. The cost of the ticket and the
general expensiveness of the purchases which
Felix insisted on her making had somewhat
frightened her. He reassured her by preach-
ing the relativity of all things. "You must

1 68 Lilian

alter your scale — it needs only an effort of
the imagination/' he had said; and explained
to her his financial status. She learned that
he had an independent income, and his sister
another, though much smaller, independent
income, and that the typewriting business was
a diversion, though a remunerative one; also
that an important cash bonus just received
from an insurance policy enabled him to be
profuse without straining his ordinary re-
sources.

She had trembled at the reception-office of
the great hotel, but Felix, laughing at her
fears, accomplished all formalities for her
quite openly, and indeed the discreet incuri-
osity of the hotel officials fully confirmed the
soundness of his attitude. Ignoring the descrip-
tion on the passport, he had told her to sign as
"Madame," and he threw out negligently that
she was his cousin. This was his sole guile.
Before going upstairs he had written out a
telegram and shown it to her. It was to his
sister, to say that he had arrived safely and
sent his love. "She has to be deceived," he
murmured, "but she's got to be treated de-

In the Hotel 169

cently. It was all I could do to keep her from
coming to see me off at Victoria!" He smiled.
Lilian was impressed. When Lilian found
that Felix's bedroom stood next to her bath-
room her anxieties were renewed. Felix
laughed again, and rang, for the door between
the bathroom and the bedroom was locked.
In a few minutes a dark and stoutish cham-
bermaid entered with a pleasant, indulgent
comprehending gravity and unlocked the door.
"What is your name?" he asked. "Jacqueline,
monsieur," she replied, and cordially accepted
a twenty-franc note from him. It was all so
simple, so natural, so un-English, so enheart-
ening. In two hours they had settled down.
All the embarrassing preludes to the closest
intimacy had been amply achieved in London.
Lilian stretched herself voluptuously, mur-
mured with a magnificent yawn, "Ah! How
I have slept!" and, slipping out of bed, padded
unshod up the room to Felix, who sat passive
in the easy chair. She took the bearings of his
shape in the gloom, and dropped lightly on
to his knees.

170 Lilian

"What am I sitting on?" she exclaimed,
startled.

"My newspapers."

Touched by the fact that he had been wait-
ing to read his beloved papers until she should
be ready to rise, she threw her arms passion-
ately round his neck and crushed her face into
his. Daily it became clearer to her that he
adored her; and yet she could scarcely believe
it, because she felt so young — even childish—
and so crude and insipid. She determined
with a whole-souled resolve that renewed itself
every hour, to stop at nothing to please him.

"Do I make you happy?" she whispered
almost inarticulately, her lips being buried in
his cheek.

"You do."

After a moment she sprang up, seized her
thin, loose, buttonless dressing-gown, and
having somehow got into it, opened the win-
dow and violently pushed back the shutters.
Strong sunlight rushed blazing into the room
like an army into a city long besieged and at
last fallen. Millions of buoyant motes were
revealed, and all the minutest details of the

In the Hotel 171

chamber. Lilian looked out. There were the
shady gardens of the hotel, the white prom-
enade with strolling visitors in pale costumes,
the calm ultramarine Mediterranean, the
bandstand far to the right emitting inaudible
music, the yellow casino, beyond the casino the
jetty with its group of white yachts, and, dis-
tant on either side, noble and jagged moun-
tains, some of them snow-capped. Incredible !
She heard Felix moving within the room, and
turned her head.

"Darling, what are you doing?"

"Ringing for your coffee."

"What time is it?"

"Haven't the least."
But your watch?"
'Haven't got it on."

"But you're all dressed."

"Haven't put my things in my pockets."

She clasped his arm and led him silently
through the bathroom into his own bedroom,
and up to the night-table, the drawer of which
she pulled open. All his "things" were ar-
ranged carefully therein.

"Oh! Men are funny!" she laughed.

172 Lilian

The number and the variety of the articles
they carried in their innumerable pockets !

"I will put your things in your pockets," she
said, and began to do so.

"Wrong!" he would protest from time to
time; but he would give no positive direction,
and she had to discover the proper pocket by
experiment. It was a most wonderful opera-
tion, and it deliciously illustrated the exotic,
incomprehensible, exquisite curiousness of
men. She was proud of having thought of it,
and proud of the pleasure in his face. As
she glanced at the watch her brow puckered.

"I shall be frightfully late!"

"It is impossible to be late where time does
not exist."

"Is that Jacqueline with my coffee?" she
said, listening, and ran back to her room, pull-
ing him after her.

Yes, she admitted she was a perfect child,
but she could not help it. While she drank
the coffee he put on his eyeglasses and opened
the newspapers, one English, one French.
She went into the bathroom.

"Felix! Felix!" she called presently from

In the Hotel 173

the bathroom. "Bring me in that soft towel
I've left on the chair by the writing-table."

Then she returned to the bedroom and did
her abundant glossy chestnut hair, and by
innumerable small stages dressed. He was
reading his papers, but she knew that he was
also watching her, and she loved him to watch
tier dress, from the first stage to the last. She
was too young to have anything to conceal,
and his pleasure, which he tried to mask, was
so obvious. He dropped The Times and
burned to the French paper.

"Felix, do you know what?"

"What?"

"I'm frightfully ashamed of not being able
to speak French. If I could only speak it a
quarter as well as you do."

"That's nothing. I couldn't say two words
without a Frenchman knowing instantly that
I wasn't French."

"But you can talk it so quickly. Couldn't
I have someone in here every morning to teach
me for an hour? People do. I could get up
earlier."

Certainly not," Felix replied. "If you did

<<i

174 Lilian

you'd have something to be late for. You'd
bring time into existence and spoil everything.
Besides, learning French is hard work. You
wouldn't learn it by instinct, as you learn
clothes. And you aren't here for hard work.
Learn French by all means, but not in this
place. London's the place for hard work. Ex-
ercise your sense of the fitness of things, my
clever girl."

She didn't fully understand this philosophy,
but she accepted it admiringly.

"What dress would you like me to wear,
darling?" She was at the wardrobe.

"That white one."

Then I shall have to change my stockings."

'Well, the yellow one then. It doesn't
matter."

"Of course it matters," she said with ear-
nestness, sitting down religiously, fanatically,
to change her stockings. "Don't you know
that I don't want anything in the world except
to please you? I only wanted to learn French
so you shouldn't have to be ashamed of me."

THE BIG YACHT

AFTER lunching to music beneath a vast
parasol in the hotel garden, which looked
like a tented field, they were bowed away by
servitors in black and white and bowed into
the hotel by servitors in blue and gold, and
bowed along the central artery of the hotel by
apprentice-servitors in scarlet, and bowed out
of the hotel again on to the promenade by
servitors in blue and gold. It was half -past
two; the glorious sun was already slipping
down; they had done absolutely nothing, and
yet they had not wasted a moment ; and on the
faces of all the many-coloured servitors there
was the smiling assurance that they had been
admirably exerting themselves in full correct-
ness, and had not a moment to waste if they
honestly desired to pursue idleness as idleness
ought to be pursued. Indeed, the winter day
was too short for the truly conscientious.

1175

176 Lilian

"Your little fur?" exclaimed Felix, who was
wearing his overcoat ; he stopped.

'But, darling, I'm far too hot as it is!"
In an hour the day will be gone," said he,
and insisted on the treachery of the climate.

He frequently insisted on the treachery of
the climate. If he happened to cough ever
so slightly, he would say that the entire Riviera
was bad for the throat and that a sore throat
was the most dangerous complaint known to
man. Lilian indulgently thought him fussy
about her health and his own and the awful
menaces of the exquisite climate; but she did
not attribute his fussiness to his age; she re-
garded him as merely happening to be a bit
fussy on certain matters. Nor did she regret
the fussiness, for it gave her new occasions to
please him and (in her heart) to condescend
femininely towards him.

"I shan't need it "

"Please! I'll fetch it, and I'll carry it. No!
you stay there."

"But do you know where it is, Felix?"

"I know where it is." His voice had become
very firm, and somewhat tyrannic.

The Big Yacht 177

She stood on the pavement, put up her
orange sunshade, and mused contentedly up-
on his prodigious care for her — proof of his
passionate attachment. People were passing
in both directions all the time on the broad
digue beyond the roadway. Some strolled in
complete possession of idleness ; others hurried
after it, with tools such as tennis rackets to
help them. Nearly all, men and women, stared
at her as they passed, until at length she turned
round and faced the revolving door of the
hotel.

"Oh! Thamk you, dearest, you're spoiling
me horribly. Do let me take it."

"I will not. Of course I'm spoiling you.
That is what you're here for. Your highest
duty in life is to be spoiled. Let's go on the
Mole."

They set off. A dark man, overdressed in
striped flannels, nearly stood still at the sight
of Lilian, gazing at her as though he had paid
five francs for the right to do so.

"My goodness!" she muttered. "How they
do stare here!"

"Why grudge them harmless enjoyment?"

178 Lilian

Felix observed. "You're giving pleasure to
every man that looks at you, and envy to most
of the women. You're fulfilling a very valu-
able function in the world. If anyone is justi-
fied in objecting, I am, and I don't object.
On the contrary, I'm as proud of the staring
as if I'd created you. There's nothing to beat
you on this coast, with your ingenuous Eng-
lish style of beauty, and half the pretty women
here would sell their souls to look as innocent
as you ZooAr, believe me I"

Lilian said nothing in reply. The fact was
that the man simply could not open his mouth
without giving her more to think about than
she could manage.

At the quay they examined all the yachts,
big and little, that were moored stern on side
by side. There were three large steam yachts,
and the largest of the three, with two decks
and a navigating deck, all white and gold and
mahogany and bunting and flowers and flut-
tering awnings, overpoweringly dominated the
port. Felix stopped and stared at the glint-
ing enormity.

The Bis Yacht 179

"Is that only a yacht?" Lilian cried. "Why!
It's bigger than the Channel steamer!"

"No!" said Felix, "but she's the fourth larg-
est yacht in the world. That's the celebrated
Qita. Crew of eighty odd. She came in last
night for stores, and she's leaving again to-
night, going to Naples. And here are the
stores, you may depend." A lorry loaded
with cases of wine drove up.

'But it's all like a fairy tale," said Lilian.
'Yes, it is. And so are you. You see, the
point is that she's just about the finest of her
kind. And so are you. She costs more than
you to run, of course. A machine like that
can't be run on less than a thousand pounds
a week. Come along. Who's staring now?"

"A thousand pounds a week!" Lilian mur-
mured, aghast. Her imagination resembled
that of a person who, on reaching a summit
which he has taken for the top of the range,
sees far higher peaks beyond. And the con-
viction that those distant peaks were unattain-
able saddened her for a moment. "It's abso-
lutely awful."

"Why awful? If you have the finest you

180 Lilian

must pay for it. A thousand a week's nothing
to that fellow. Moreover, he's a British citi-
zen and he did splendid service for his country
in the war. Among other things he owns two
of the best brands of champagne. The War
Office gave him a commission and a car; and
he travelled all over Europe selling his own
champagne at his own price to officers' messes.
After all, officers couldn't be expected to fight
without the drinks they're accustomed to,
could they?"

Lilian obscurely divined irony. She often
wished that she could be ironical and amusing,
as Felix was; but she never could. She
couldn't conceive how it was done

They reached the Mole, which was quite
deserted, being off the map of correctness,
and surveyed the entire scene — ships, blue
water, white hotels, casino, villas, green
wooded slopes all faint in the haze, and rising
sharply out the haze the lofty line of snow.
In the immediate foreground, almost under
their feet, was a steel collier from the north.
Along the whole length of the ships carts were
drawn up and cranes were creaking, and grimy

The Big Yacht 181

ragged men hurried sweating to drop basket-
f nls of coal into the carts, and full carts were
always departing and empty carts always com-
ing. The activity seemed breathless, feverish,
and without the possibility of end — so huge
was the steamer and so small were the pair-
horse carts.

Two yacht's officers passed in shiny blue
with gilt buttons and facings. Growled one:

"Yes, and how the hell do they expect me to
keep my ship clean with this thing between me
and the weather?"

"Yes," agreed the other. "How in hell do
they ? Why they don't make 'em unload some-
where else beats me."

Then Felix and Lilian turned seawards
and watched the everlasting patience of the
fishers on the rocks below.

"Better put your fur on," said Felix sud-
denly.

She put it on.

Returning to the quay Lilian could not keep
her eyes off the superb yacht. But in a
moment she bent them suddenly and quick-
ened her pace.

1 82 Lilian

"You're feeling chilly," said Felix trium-
phantly. "The sun's got behind the fort."

On the lower deck of the yacht, under an
awning and amid easy chairs and cushions, she
had seen a tall man earnestly engaged in con-
versation with a young and pretty girl. She
thought the man was Lord Mackworth. She
felt sure it was Lord Mackworth. She wanted
to turn her head and make certain, but she
dared not lest he should see her. She was
blushing. There was nothing whatever in the
brief relations between Lord Mackworth and
herself to which the slightest exception could
be taken by the strictest moralist. Yet she was
blushing. She blushed because of the dreams
she had once had concerning him. Her old,
forgotten thoughts, which nobody on earth
could ever have guessed, made her into a kind
of criminal;, It was very strange. Perhaps

•

also she feared a little what Lord Mackworth
might think of her if he saw her in that place,
in those clothes, with a man much older than
herself. How inexpressibly fortunate that the
yacht was leaving that night I Instead of look-
ing over her shoulder at Lord Mackworth, she

The Big Yacht 183

^ ___^ — — •— —_-__—- i— — — — • — — — — ^— ^— — •— — — — • •

looked over her shoulder at Felix, to reassure
herself about her deep fondness for him, and
about his reliability in even the greatest crises.

"I love him," she reflected, "because he is so
marvellously clever and kind and dependable
and just, and because he worships me — I don't
know why."

But she was devoted to him because he had
picked her out of a batch and opened her eyes
to the apple on the tree and made her eat it,
and because she had worked and watched and
suffered for him in the office, and been cast
out of the office for him, and because of a
funny enigmatic look in his wrinkled eyes.
She would have liked him just the same if he
had been cruel and undependable and had not
worshipped her. And she desired ardently to
be still more and more beautiful and luxurious
for him, and more and more to be stared at
for him, and to render him still happier and
happier. She was magnificently ready to kill
him with bliss.

After several hundred yards she turned
round and looked at the yacht. No figures

184 Lilian

were distinguishable now on the deck. She
thought captiously:

"I wonder who that doll was and what they
were talking about with their heads so close
together."

Ill

THE CASINO

LILIAN, in a negligee, was somnolently
stretched out in the easy chair in her room
when Felix peeped in. He looked at her
inquiringly in silence for a moment, and she
gave him a hazy smile.

"Oh!" he said. "Then you won't feel like
going into the Casino to-night after all?"

"Nothing to stop me," she replied, with a
peculiar intonation, light and yet anxious.

"Hurrah!" exclaimed Felix very gaily, al-
most boyishly. "Then we'll go."

The apprehension which now for two days
had been eating like a furtive cancer into her
mind suddenly grew and contaminated, the
whole of her consciousness; she could not un-
derstand his levity, for she had not concealed
from him the sinister misgiving.

"Yes!" she murmured with a sort of charm-
ing and victimised protest. "That's all very
well, but — — " And she stopped, and the smile
expired from her face.

185

1 86 Lilian

— — — ^— ^-^— i»^ — i— — — ^ — — »^ — — — — — ^^

He shrugged his shoulders, gave a short,
affectionate, humouring laugh, and said with
kind superiority, utterly positive :

"What have I told you? The thing's abso-
lutely imposs 1"

And just as suddenly she was quite reas-
sured and the apprehension vanished away.
It could not exist against his perfect certitude.
She lit up a new smile.

"Look here," he went on, "we'll dine in the
Casino if we can. Of course every blessed
table may be booked, but I'll have a try."

A quarter of an hour later, when she had
begun to dress, he returned with the exciting
information that, at precisely the right instant,
somebody had telephoned to countermand an
inside table and he had secured it.

They arrived very late in the Casino restau-
rant, yet more diners came after them than
had come before, so that ultimately it would
have been difficult to draw a straight line be-
tween dinner and supper. The stars in the
arched firmament of the vast and lofty hall
challenged the stars of heaven in number and
splendour, and seemed to win easily. Light

The Casino 187

fell in glittering floods on the flowered tables
and on the shoulders of the women. In the
centre of the floor was an oblong parquet sa-
cred to dancing. The band, in which English-
men and varied dagoes were mingled, sat,
clothed apparently in surplices, on a dais
in a mighty alcove. The drummer and
the ban joist each procured an unnatural
union of light and sound by electric il-
lumination of their instruments from within.
The leader wore a battered opera hat, and at
the end of a piece he would exclaim grimly and
scornfully, "So that's that!" or "We are the
goods!" or some such pharse. Now and then
the band overflowed into song; and the wild
chants of the Marquesas or the Fiji Islands
rang riotously through the correctness of the
restaurant, and Lilian caught fragments of
significant verse, such as :

"The rich get rich,
And the poor get children,
Ain't we got fun?"

showing that one touch of nature makes the
Southern archipelago the very sister and bride
of Europe.

1 88 Lilian

The primary mission of the band was to
induce a general exultant gaiety; and the mis-
sion was accomplished, nobody understood
how. Lilian exulted in the food, the wine, the
glitter, the noise, the wise, humourous face of
Felix, and the glances which assailed her on
every hand. All care fell away from her. She
forgot the f uture, the whole of her vitality con-
centrated itself intensely in the moment.
Most of the conversation at neighbouring
tables was in English, and it was all about
gambling, dancing, golf, lawn-tennis, polo,
cards, racing, trains de luxe, clothes, hotels,
prices, and women. Even in the incompre-
hensible French gabble that reached her she
could distinguish words like "golf," and
"bridge," and "picnic."

Then four elegant, waisted, young men ap-
peared mysteriously from nowhere and ap-
proached certain tables and bowed with an
assured air, and instantly four elegant young
women rose up, without being asked, and the
professional couples began to display to the
amateurs the true art of the dance. Lilian had
never seen such dancing.

The Casino 189

"Why are they all Spanish girls?" she inno-
cently asked, struck by the rich, dark skin of
the women.

"They're no more Spanish than you are,"
said Felix. "You perceive that one there.
She's at our hotel, on our floor, and I've seen
her as blonde as a Norwegian. The dark olive
is the result of strange cosmetics, and a jolly
fine result too. Nothing finer has been in-
vented for a century. It's so perverse. Don't
you like it?"

"I think it's lovely!" she agreed with enthu-
siasm, also with a vague envy.

Later, when the senoritas had left their
partners and resumed their interrupted meals,
and the parquet was empty again, she said :

"I do really think it's awful, all this! It's
so expensive, everything, and it's all for pleas-
ure. The whole town's for pleasure." In the
background she had a vision of her working
life, with its discipline and cast-iron hours and
wristlets, and fatigue and privations and
penury. The click of the typewriter, the
green-shaded lamps, the Tube, the cold bed-
room, the washing and sewing done in the

190 Lilian

cold bedroom! The blue working frock with
its pathetic red line of clumsy embroidery!

"What about Margate?" Felix demanded
quietly.

She was nonplussed.

"Oh! But that's different!"

"It is. It's not half as good. You must re-
member there's nothing new in all this. It's
been going on in the Mediterranean for thou-
sands of years, and it's likely to go on for thou-
sands of years more. It's what human nature
is. What are you going to do about it? Would
you abolish luxury and pleasure? Not you.
Do you imagine that God created the shores
of the Mediterranean and this climate for any-
thing else but this? What frightens you is the
tremendous organization and concentration of
the affair. Nothing else. And let me tell you
that this town is the most interesting town
on the coast just now. The fellow that's got
the new concession for the Casino is a bit of a
genius. He's moulding the place into some-
thing fresh. It used to be the primmest place
on earth. He discovered that the English
don't want to be prim any more; he showed

The Casino 191

them to themselves. Do you suppose all these
women began to come here on their own?
They're pawns in his great game. He brought
them; but no nice-minded person asks how, nor
whether they really pay for their meals or
their rooms, nor how they manage to encour-
age big gambling in the baccarat rooms. This
fellow has put the wind up to the next town
up the coast; it used to be the most corrupt
town in the whole of Europe, that place used
to be! And now the rival genius there is in-
troducing large families of children and nurses
there in the hope of persuading the English
that they prefer to be prim and domestic after
all. The fact is these two geniuses are gam-
bling against one another for far bigger stakes
than any of the baccarat maniacs. It's a battle
for the command of the coast. That's what it
is. You don't get the hang of it all at once;
but you will in time. Let's dance."

Lilian was startled by the invitation, for
they had not yet danced together. She re-
membered how on that night when he first
talked to her about herself he had known that
she was being deprived of an evening's danc-

192 Lilian

■ — — ^— i ■

ing. They stood up as the chicken was being
removed. She smiled at him with fresh ad-
miration. He had impregnated her with new
ideas; he had reassured her; he had justified
her enjoyment; he was amazing; he was mad
about her, in his restrained style ; and now he
would surprisingly dance with her.

Although they took the floor early in the
dance, when only two other couples had begun
to dance, it was impossible for her to be ner-
vous within his arm. Half the room gazed at
her, for she had attracted attention from the
first. She knew that half the room was gazing
at her — and she liked it. She guessed that half
the room was saying: "Look at that fresh
young creature who's with that middle-aged
man — she must be really very young." And
she liked it. She liked to show herself with the
man who was more than old enough to be her
father, worn by knowledge and experience and
the corrupting of the world; to contrast her
untried simplicity — the bloom of the virginal
scarcely gone from it — with his grey hairs and
his wrinkled, disillusioned, passive eyes. She
was happy in the thought that everybody knew

The Casino 193

that she must have given herself to him, and
that there was something strange, sinister, and
even odious in her abandonment. He had used
the word "perverse." She did not wholly un-
derstand the word, but it appealed to her, and
for her it expressed her mood.

She had noticed, in the room, how the
women no longer unquestionably young were
more consciously and carefully charming
towards their men, receiving adulation but
rendering it back ; whereas the unquestionably
young were more negligent and far more ego-
tistic. And so she behaved like one no longer
unquestionably young. She glanced up at her
partner with ravishing, ecstatic smiles; she
publicly adored him. And she was glad that
her green and gold frock with its long arm-
holes was not of the Wigmore Street cut, but
quite other in origin and spirit and in its effect
upon the imagination.

The dancing had by this time become gen-
eral, but the olive-tinted temptresses were still
prominent in the throng, and sometimes she
touched them in the curves of the dance. She
knew where they beat her and where she beat

194 Lilian

^ — — ■— ^— —— — — ^ — ^—— — — — i— —*

them. And it was vouchsafed to her from the
eyes of Felix that she was lovely and marvel-
lous. She felt intensely, inexpressibly happy,
and more than happy — triumphant. Her
quiet, obstinate resentment against the domes-
tic policy of her father died out, and she for-
gave him as she danced. She thought with a
secret sigh almoft painful in its relief :

"Thank God I have fulfilled myself and
succeeded not too late!"

She had premonitions of power, a foretaste
of dominion. Felix was hers. She could in-
fluence him. She could re-make him. And for
the thousandth time she breathed to him in
her soul: "I have made you happy, but I will
make you more happy — infinitely more happy.
You don't know yet what I am capable of."
He danced very correctly and quite nicely;
rather stiff, of course, but with a certain clever
abandonment of his body to the rhythm. She
thought: "With what women did he learn to
dance? He must have danced a lot. Never
will I ask! Never!" The fox-trot ended.

As they were crossing the floor to their table
she saw Lord Mackworth dining with a man

The Casino 195

older than himself at a table near the windows.
She sat down to the sweet. He had caught
sight of her and was looking at her fixedly.
She stared at him for a moment with the casu-
ally interested stare of non-recognition, per-
fectly executed.

"The yacht hasn't left then, after all," she
reflected, and to Felix: "Did that big yacht
leave to-night ?"

"No," said Felix, "I heard they'd changed
their minds." Felix had the faculty of hearing
everjrthing.

In spite of herself , Lilian was disturbed.

CHEMIN DE FEB

WHEN Felix said that of course they
must visit the baccarat rooms, she
vaguely acquiesced. A mood of the old appre-
hension had mysteriously succeeded her exul-
tation ; she wanted to exorcise it and couldn't.
She would have tried to dance the gloom away,
but Felix did not suggest another dance; she
understood that he had danced once because it
was proper for an enlightened amateur of life
to forego no sensation, and that he would not
dance again unless asked. She would not ask.
He had given her a cigarette and a liqueur;
she had accepted a second liqueur and then
declined it, afraid of it and anxious for her
reputation in his eyes. There were formalities
to accomplish at the entrance to the baccarat
rooms — f orms to be filled up and money to be
paid.

"They make a small charge for emptying

196

Chemin de Fer 197

your pockets," said Felix. "They pretend to
be rather particular about their victims."

The select rooms were crowded. Every
table in the blazing interior had round it a
thick ring of sitters and standers, and many
people were walking to and fro, disappointed
or hopeful. By tiptoeing and supporting her-
self on Felix's shoulder Lilian could just see
the green cloth of a table, like the floor of a
pit whose walls were bodies elegant in evening
dress. It was littered with white, rose, and
green counters, banknotes, cards, ash-trays,
cigarette cases, and vanity bags. More women
were seated than men. A single croupier dom-
inated and ruled the game. Cards and
counters were thrown about from side to side.

"It seems frightfully exciting," murmured
Lilian, scarcely audible, into the ear of Felix.

"It is," said Felix gruffly. "It's the real
thing, you know, gambling is. When people
lose they lose real money, and when thtey win,
ditto. You can genuinely ruin yourself here.
There's no sham about it. You may go out
without even your fare home." He offered

198 Lilian

these remarks separately, between consider-
able pauses.

"Is baccarat easy to learn?"

"Very. But not here, — and this isn't bac-
carat. This is chemin de fer — equally easy
though. I'll get a pack of cards at the hotel
and teach you. It's chemin de fer at every
table. I suppose that's why they call the rooms
'baccarat'?"

He was edging nearer the croupier. A stout
middle-aged woman whose flesh seemed to be
insecurely and inadequately confined within
frail silk rose from her chair, gathering up
bag and cigarette case — all that remained to
her.

"Sit down here and keep the chair for me,"
Felix said sharply, and pushed Lilian into the
seat.

Everybody gazed at her, and her constraint
showed the conviction that everybody guessed
she had never sat at a gaming-table before.
Felix had vanished, and she was thrown with
her arresting, innocent beauty upon the en-
vious and jealous world. He had gone to ex-
change notes for counters, but she did not

Chemin de Fer 199

know. After a moment that was an hour he re-
turned and took the seat.

You stand behind me and watch," said he.
And when you get bored walk about and see
things for yourself, and when you need moral
support again come and put your hand on my
chair. I'll stop playing whenever you tell
me." He spoke in a muttering voice, but three
or four persons around could not fail to catch
every word; this, however, appeared not to
trouble him.

Lilian was in a state of high excitation, but
she was also extremely confused, the game be-
ing a complete enigma to her. The croupier
was continually raking cards to and fro and
counters to and fro, continually tearing tickets
out of a book, ripping them to pieces and
throwing the pieces behind him, continually
dropping cards into a big hole, and continu-
ally dropping counters into a little hole. An
official opposite the croupier, with pockets full
of counters was continually, and with miracu-
lous rapidity, exchanging rose counters for
green and white counters for rose. The player
next to Felix had a small table behind him fur-

200 Lilian

nished with champagne and sandwiches, which
he consumed in hasty gulps and mouthfuls, as
one who feels the dread hour at hand when no
man may eat or drink. The players ejaculated
short incomprehensible words, and at brief in-
tervals Lilian seized a word that sounded like
"baunco." She heard Felix utter the word,
saw him turn up two cards and then receive
from the croupier's rake a large assortment of
green and rose counters. He never looked
at her to smile; she was ignored, but she
guessed that he must be winning. Soon after-
wards his piles of counters had strangely
diminished.

The heat stifled her, and the odour of flesh
and tobacco and scent nauseated. She held no
key to the vast and splendid conundrum, un-
less by chance her fundamental common-sense
was right in its casual suggestion that she was
surrounded by lunatics. Yet how could per-
sons so well-dressed, so sure of themselves, so
restrained and stylish in manner, and seem-
ingly so wealthy, be lunatics? Impossible!
She grew profoundly and inexplicitly sad.

At length she walked away, aimless. Felix

Chemin de Fer 201

did not notice her departure. She thought it
almost certain that Lord Mackworth would
be somewhere in the rooms ; she desired above
everything to avoid the danger incident to
meeting him face to face ; but she walked away.
All the tables were the same as the table at
which she had left Felix — crowded, entranced,
self -concentrated, and perfectly unintelligible ;
and at every table the croupier was continually
dropping counters into a little hole, and tear-
ing up tickets and throwing the fragments be-
hind him on to the crimson carpet. The sole
difference between the tables was that some
held more banknotes than others. The heaps
of blue thousand-franc notes piled about one
table caused Lilian to halt and gaze.

"Some ready there I" said a very young man
to a fierce old woman.

"Ah! But you should have seen it in the
days of gold plaques before the war. You
could call a hundred franc gold piece 'ready',
then, if you like." The old woman sighed
grimly.

Lilian passed on under their combined stare.
She glimpsed herself in mirrors, as once she

202 Lilian

used to glimpse herself in the shop windows of
Bond Street, and was satisfied with the vision.
Her walk was as remarkable as her beauty.
Yes, she knew how to put her feet on the
ground and how to make her body float
smoothly and evenly above the moving limbs.
Her spirit rose as she began to suspect that
no woman in the rooms was getting more no-
tice than herself. Fancy Felix being absorbed
in his gambling! She had forgotten Lord
Mackworth; she had decided that he was not
in the rooms; and then suddenly, sprung from
nothingness like a ghost, he stood in her path
between the wall and the end of a table. She
was disposed to retreat; besides, his attention
was fixed on the table and she might get by
him unperceived. But just as she approached
he turned. Although she might have ignored
him, and in the circumstances was indeed en-
titled to do so, she did not because she could
not. She blushed, only slightly, acknowledged
their acquaintance with a faint smile, then
stopped, but did not advance her hand to meet
his.
"Ought I to have shaken hands?" she

Chemin de Fer 203

thought anxiously. All her quickly acquired
worldliness of manner left her in an instant.
She was the typewriting girl again, wearing
the wristlets. He had all the physical splen-
dour that she remembered, and the style, and
the benignant large-hearted tolerance of an
extensive sinner. As he looked at her he drew
back his chin and made several chins of it in
just the same old way. He was enormous,
superb, and perfect. And if not a boy he had
real youth; once more she had to contrast his
youth with Felix's specious sprightliness. She
fought on behalf of Felix in her mind, and on
points Felix won; but in her mind Lord Mack-
worth had supporters which derided all reason-
ing. And as she fronted him the frightful
apprehension was powerfully revived and it
seemed to be building a wall between her and
the young man, and she was intensely dejected
beneath the brightness of her demeanour.

"Very hot here, isn't it?" she was saying.
("A stupid typewriting girl remark," she re-
flected as it slipped out.)

"A great change since I was here last, just

204 Lilian

before the war," said Lord Mackworth gaily.

"Warmer, do you mean?"

"No I Much more cheery now. Jollier !"
He waved a hand towards the company in
general.

"Oh, ihatt" said Lillian, marshalling all her
forces in a determined effort to lose the type-
writing girl in the woman of the world. "You
mean the company." She shrugged her
shoulders, borrowing some of his tolerance,
"Of course you know theyVe been brought
here on purpose. It's all part of a great battle
for the command of the coast."

The effort succeeded beyond her hopes.
Lord Mackworth was clearly impressed; he
put questions, which Lilian answered out of
the mouth of Felix. Strange that this man
should be he who had inexcusably omitted to
pay his trumpery bill at Clifford Street, the
man through whose unconscious agency she
had been unjustly cast into the street! How-
ever, the past did not in the least affect her
feeling for him. What she most vividly re-
called was that she had striven to serve him
and had served him. He made no reference—

Ghemin de Fer 205

doubtless from delicacy — to the night of their
meeting; nor did he betray even the very small-
est surprise at seeing her, the typewriting girl,
exquisitely and expensively dressed, in the
finest baccarat rooms on the Riviera. (Of
course she might be married, or have inherited
a fortune — he could think as he chose.)

They went on talking and then a pause
came, and Lord Mackworth said bluntly:
'I saw you from the yacht this afternoon.
Oh! What yacht?
The Qita.

"The big one? Is it yours?"

"Oh, lord no! She belongs to my friend
Macmusson — we dined together here to-night."

"It must be terribly big. I suppose you
have an enormous party on board?"

"Not a bit. Only Macmusson and his three
old aunts and his niece— adopted daughter.
Nobody else."

"That's the girl you were making love to,"
Lilian's heart accused him. "She's going to be
very rich and she'll pay all your family debts.
That's what it is. But what difference does it
make?" her heart added. "You are you."

206 Lilian

And aloud: "I heard the yacht was leaving
to-night."

"She was. But I persuaded old Macmus-
son to stop another day."

'Really!"

'And do you know why?"

"No."

"Because I had some hope of meeting you
here to-night."

She flushed again. She saw the ante-room
at Clifford Street at the moment when he came
back to ask her to wake him by telephone. He
must have been well aware, then, that he had
made a conquest, because in the ante-room she
had not been able to hide her soft emotion.
From that moment he had forgotten her; yet
he couldn't have forgotten her. Perhaps he
had somehow been prevented from meeting
her in the meantime. Now at the mere second
sight of her he had stopped the great yacht on
the chance of talking to her I He had thrown
over the young rich girl at a single glimpse of
Lilian as she passed! It was astounding. But
in fact she was not astounded. She glanced up
at him. His smooth, handsome red face was

Ghemin de Fer 207

1 „i

alive with admiration. And was she not really
to be admired, even by the Lord Mackworths ?
Was she not marvellous? Did not all the com-
pany in the rooms regard her as marvellous?
She thrilled to the romance of the incredible
event. He was so young and big and strongs
and handsome; he had such prestige in her
eyes. She saw visions.

But the frightful apprehension — no longer
a wall, rather a cloud — swallowed up the
visions and froze the thrill. Felix held her. A
gust of ruthless common-sense inspired her to
say primly:

"It's always dangerous to give reasons for
what one's done." And, nodding, she left him.
Immediately afterwards she had to sit down..

IN THJS HILLS

WHEN she at length returned to Felix,
and, squeezing through the outer rings
of gladiators against chance, touched him deli-
cately on the shoulder, he faced her with a
bright youthful smile, and without any sur-
prise — it was plain to her that he had recog-
nized her from the light touch of her finger.
"Do you want me to stop?"
She nodded.

He gathered his counters together and rose
with alacrity.

You came in the nick of time," he said.
But of course you would ! I've been playing
wild and I've made a thousand francs into
rather more than six thousand. It was the
very moment to flee from the wrath that was
coming. Let's run, run, to the change desk
before I change my mind and decide to begin
to lose. That's the only insurance — getting

208

In the Hills 209

rid of the counters, because when you've got
rid of 'em you're too ashamed with yourself
to get more."

He was quite uplifted, so gaily preoccupied
with his achievement that he noticed nothing

■

strange in her mien. She was glad that he
noticed nothing; and yet also she was sorry;
she would have liked him, after a single glance
at her, to have said in his curt, quiet, assured
manner: "What's wrong?"

She kept thinking, but not of Felix: "He
must be very fickle and capricious. I'm cer-
tain he was making love to her. He happens
to see me and off he runs after me ! He can't
be any good, with his debts and things. I was
right to give him the bird. But he's terribly
nice, and I don't care. I don't know what on
earth's the matter with me. I think I must be
a bit mad, and always was. If I wasn't, should
I be here?"

Transiently she viewed herself as, for ex-
ample, Gertie Jackson would have viewed her.
And then she saw another and a worse self and
viewed that other self as Lilian the staid and
constant friend of Felix would naturally view

210 Lilian

such an abandoned girl. She was afraid of
and disgusted by the possibilities discovered
in the depths of her own mind.

At the desk the dancing girl whom Felix
had indicated as inhabiting their hotel hurried
up passionately and forestalled them. She
threw down two green counters, as it were in
anger.

"Can I play with thatt" she exclaimed in
cockney English. The changer handed her
two hundred franc notes, which she crumpled
in her hand.

"I must find a hundred thousand francs
from somewhere !" she cried, departing. She
was talking to herself. As she moved away a
stout, oldish man with a thick lower lip, pearl
studs in his shirt-front, and a gleaming white
waistcoat joined her, and they disappeared
together.

Lilian stared after her in amazement.
Felix's winnings suddenly seemed very insig-
nificant. Still when he received six fine fresh
thousand-franc notes, besides some small notes,
in exchange for valueless discs, and handed to
her one of the five fresh notes — "That's for

In the Hills 21 1

saving me from myself!" — she was impressed
anew. A palace of magic, the baccarat rooms !
The real thing, gambling !

"What do you want to do now?" he asked.
"Dance? No? Well, I'll do anything you
like, anything, the most absurd thing. Is that
talking?"

They were moving somewhat aimlessly
down the grand staircase.

"Felix, darling," she murmured. "Let's go
for a motor run in the hills. There's a lovely
moon. I should so love it." She desired to
be alone with him precisely as she had been
alone with him in the taxi after their first
dinner. She had a fancy for just that and
nothing else. She pictured them together in
the car, in the midst of gigantic nature and in
the brilliant night.

"But it will be cold!" he protested.

"It wasn't cold when we came in here- — it
was quite warm — you said so," she replied
softly. "But just as you please. I don't
mind." And into the acquiescent charm of
her voice she dropped one drop of angelic
resentment — one single drop; not because he

212 Lilian

objected to gratifying her, but because she
knew he was merely fussing himself about his
throat and his health generally.

"We'll go by all means. It won't take
long," he yielded affectionately, without re-
serve.

She pressed his arm. She had won. He
began to suspect that she was overwrought, —
perhaps by the first sight of the spectacle of
.gambling on a great scale — and he soothed her
accordingly. Half a dozen automobiles were
waiting and willing to take them into the hills.

Before Lilian had regained full possession
of herself they were clear of the town, and
continually ascending, in long curves. The
night was magnificent ; through the close-shut
windows of the car could be seen, not the moon,
which was on high, but the strong moonlight
and sharp shadows, and the huge austere con-
tours of the hills ; and here and there a distant,
steady domestic lamp. Lilian sat in her corner
and Felix in his, and a space separated them
because of the width of the car. She felt a
peculiar constraint and could not reach the
mood she wanted.

In the Hills 213

"Felix," she said, "you heard that girl say
she must have a hundred thousand francs ; how
will she get it ? How can she get it?"

"She'll just disappear for a day or two, and
then she'll come back with it. I daresay she
owes most of it already to the casino."

"But who will give it her?"

"Ah! That's her secret. There's always
somebody in the background that these charm-
ers have made themselves indispensable to.
When this particular charmer tackles the par-
ticular man or men that she's indispensable to,
she'll have what she needs out of them if
they've got it to give. That's a certainty. If
a man has hypnotised himself into the belief
that a girl's body is paradise he'll win paradise
and keep paradise. He'll steal, commit mur-
der, sell his wife and children, abandon his
parents to the workhouse — there's nothing he
won't do. And he'll do it even if she'll only let
him kiss her feet. Of course, all inen aren't
like that, but there are quite a few of 'em, and
these charmers always find 'em out. Trust
them." j

214 Lilian

"I couldn't see that there was anything very
extraordinary in her."

"Neither could I. But perhaps we're blind
to what that fellow who's going to fork out the
hundred thousand francs sees. I daresay if I
were to dance with her I might have glimpses
of his notion of her. Anyhow, you bet she's
a highly finished product; she's got great gifts
and great skill, — must have — and she knows
exactly what she's about — and she looks eight-
een and isn't above twenty-five. You must
remember she's on the way to being a star in
the most powerful profession in the world.
They've made practically all the history there
is, even in the East, and they're still making it
— making it this very night."

There was a considerable silence, and then
Lilian shot across the seat and leaned heavily
against Felix and clasped his neck.

"Darling," she said, "I know I'm going to
have a baby!"

They could just see each other. Felix
paused before replying.

"Very well! Very well," he said calmly.
"We shall see who's right." Her thoughts

In the Hills 215

concerning Lord Mackworth now seemed ut-
terly incredible to her in their mad aberration.

The next moment the car swerved unex-
pectedly to the side of the mounting road and
the engine stopped; the chauffeur jumped
down, opened the bonnet, unstrapped one of
the side lamps and peered with it into the
secrets under the bonnet, Felix, loosing him-
self from Lilian, rapped sharply on the front
window, but got no response from the bent
chauffeur. Then impatiently he tried to let
down the window, and could not. He lifted
it, shook it, rattled it, broke the fragile fasten-
ing of the strap. Suddenly the window fell
with a bang into its slit, and there was a
tinkling of smashed glass.

"Damn it! I ought to have opened the
door, but I was afraid of too much cold."

The icy air of the hills rushed like an assas-
sin into the interior of the car. Felix shivered,
unlatched the door and got out. The chauf-
feur proved to be an Italian, with no more
French than sufficed to take orders and receive
fares and tips. He could give no intelligible
explanation of the breakdown, but he smiled

216 Lilian

optimistically. The car was absolutely alone
on the road, and the road was alone in the vast
implacable landscape. No light anywhere
except the chilly, dazzling moon, and the stars,
and the glitter of a far range of god-like peaks,
whence came the terrible wind. The scene and
situation intimidated. The inhuman and neg-
ligent grandeur of nature was revealed.
Felix returned into the car and shut the door,
but could not shut out the cold. Lilian
covered his chest with her warm bosom.
Gently he pushed her away.

"No! no!"

"Let me, darling!"

"It's no use. I shall suffer for this."

After a few minutes the engine was throb-
bing again, and they had begun the descent.
But no device could conjure away the ruthless
night air. Back at the hotel, Felix took
brandy and hot water, accepted Lilian's hot
water bag in addition to his own, and was in
bed and thickly enveloped in no time at all.
Lilian kissed him guiltily, and left him. He
bade her good-night kindly but absently, en-
grossed in himself.

THE BENEFACTRESS

WHEN Lilian was alone in her room she
thought anxiously:

"Supposing he should want more brandy in
the night — there is none!"

The travelling flask was now empty. (In
the emergency, hot water from the lavatory-
basin tap had been used to dilute the brandy,
Felix having said impatiently that any water
would do so long as it was hot, — hang a few
germs!) She had noticed that he would al-
ways take a little brandy if he felt unwell
from whatever cause, and this habit caused her
no uneasiness, for from her father she had ac-
quired a firm belief in the restorative qualities
of brandy; even her mother would say how
unwise it was to "be without" brandy, and
before starting for the annual domestic holi-
day invariably attended herself to the provi-
sion of it. The lack of brandy settled upon

217

218 Lilian

Lilian's mind, intensifying somehow her sense
of guilt. She felt deeply the responsibilities
of the situation, which became graver and
graver to her — the more so as she had no real
status to deal with it.

She wanted to ring the bell, but the bell was
within a few yards of Felix's door — he often
complained on this score — and to ring might
be to wake him. Cautiously she stepped into
the corridor, hoping to find Jacqueline in the
service-room at the end of the shabby little side
corridor where the bell and the room-indicator
were. She knew the French for brandy. The
main corridor stretched away with an effect of
endlessness. In its whole length only two
electric lights had been left to burn. Solitude
and silence made it mysteriously solemn. A
pair of boots, or two pairs of boots — one large,
one small and dainty — here and there on a
doormat seemed inexplicably to symbolise the
f orlornness of humanity in the sight of the in-
finite. The beating of Lilian's heart attracted
her attention. Not without an effort could she
cross the magic and formidable corridor. The
door of the service-room was locked. No hope!

The Benefactress 219

Even Jacqueline had a bed somewhere and was
asleep in it; and brandy was as unattainable
as on a coral island.

Lilian felt the rough hair-lining of pleasure.
The idea of her insecurity frightened her. She
perceived that a life of toil, abstinence, depri-
vation, and cold virginity had its advantages.
Of course, Felix was not going to be ill; but
if he were, and if her dreadful fears about her
own condition were realized,— what then?
What would happen? Were the moral maxims
and strict practice of her parents after all
horribly true? The wages of sin, and all that
sort of thing . . . ? She heard steps in the
distance of the corridor. She peeped. Some-
body was approaching. Had she time to cross
and vanish into the shelter of her room? She
hesitated. The visitant was a woman. It was
the girl who in the baccarat rooms had talked
of a hundred thousand francs in a cockney
accent, the girl whom Felix had described as
probably a rising star in the most powerful of
professions. She too had a bed and was seek-
ing it at last.

"I expect there's no chance of getting hold

220 Lilian

of a servant to-night," said Lilian meekly, as
the girl instinctively paused in passing.

The girl, staring sharply out of her arti-
ficially enlarged eyes, shrugged the shoulders
of negation at Lilian's simplicity.

"Anything the matter?"

"I only wanted some brandy. My — "
"husband" she meant to say, but could not
frame the majestic word,— "my friend's not
very well- Chill. He's had a very little
brandy and might need some more in the
night." She flushed.

"Come along of me. I'll let you have
some." What a harsh, rasping little voice!

The benefactress's bedroom was in a state
of rich disorder that astounded Lilian. The
girl turned on every light in the chamber,
banged the door, and pushing some clothes off
a chair told Lilian to sit down. Drawers were
open, cupboards were open, the wardrobe was
open. Attire, boxes, bottles, parcels, candies,
parasols, illustrated comic papers, novels with
shiny coloured covers were strewn everywhere;
and in a corner a terrific trunk stood upright.

The Benefactress 221

The benefactress began ferreting in drawers
and slamming them to one after another.

"I'm afraid I'm putting you to a lot of
trouble," said Lilian. "You're very kind, I'm
sure."

"Not a bit of it. I never can find anything.
I think us girls ought to stand by each other,
that's what I think. Not as we ever do!"
Her voice seemed to thicken, almost to break.

Lilian felt as if the entire hotel had trembled
under her feet, but she gave no sign of shock ;
she desired the brandy, if it was to be had.
"Us girls"!

"You are French, aren't you? I only ask
because you speak English so well."

After a moment the girl replied, her head
buried in a drawer:

"You bet I'm French. My mother sent me
to a convent in London so as I could learn
English properly. It was one of them board-
ing convents where you're free to do what you
like so long as you're in by seven o'clock.
They wanted a few French girls for the chorus
of a revue at the Pavilion. Soon as I got in
there I never went back to the convent and

222 Lilian

I've never seen ma since, either. I was in that
chorus for a year. Oh I" She produced an
ingenious and costly travelling spirit-case, and
then searched for the key of it.

"I wish I could speak French half as well
as you speak English."

"If I had half your face and your figure I'd
give all my English to anybody that cared to
have it. Oh! Damn the key! Excuse me.
Here you are." She offered the disengaged
flask. "Now you go along and take what you
want and bring me the flask back."

She stood in front of Lilian, who rose. She
was as flat as Milly Merrislate, and neither tall
nor graceful. Every lineament of the pert
face so heavily masked in paint and powder,
every gesture, the too bright stockings, the
gilded shoes, the impudent coiffure, the huge
and flashy rings, the square-dialled wrist-
watch — all were crudely symptomatic of an
ingrained and unalterable vulgarity. Lilian
was absolutely unable to understand how any
man, however coarse and cynical, could find
any charm of any kind in such a girl. But
Lilian did not know that intense vulgarity is

The Benefactress 223

in itself irresistible to certain amateurs of
women, and she was far too young really to
appreciate the sorcery of mere lithe youth-
fulness.

"Why I What is it?" Lilian exclaimed as
she took the flask.

Tears were ravaging the cheeks of the bene-
factress.

"Oh I Damn!" The benefactress stamped
her foot and raised her thin, loose, bare shoul-
ders. "Gambling's it. I always lose here.
It's all shemmy here, and when you win at
shemmy you take other people's money, not
the bank's, and that puts me off like at the start.
And you never win if you don't feel as if you
were going to. I was at Monte Carlo last
week and you sh'd 've seen me at roulette,
taking the casino money. I couldn't do
wrong. But I had to come back here, and
there you are! Lost it all and a lot more!"
She was speaking through her tears. "Cleaned
out to-night! Naked! You see it's like this.
Gambling gives you an emotion. It's the only
thing there is for that — I mean for me. . . .
Did you see that fat beast speak to me to-night

224 Lilian

in the Casino? Well, he said something to me
and offered me ten thousand francs and I
slapped his face for him in the entrance-hall.
He knew I was stony. I was a fool. Why
shouldn't I have done what he wanted ? What's
it matter? But no! I'm like that, and I
slapped his face and I'd do it again, I would!
He's Scapini, you know, the biggest share-
holder in both the big hotels here. I tore it,
I did I And would you believe, I'd no sooner
got in here afterwards than the manager told
me I must leave to-morrow morning. It was
all over the place as quick as that! I've only
got to go to Paris to get all the money I want.
Yes. But I'd sell myself for a year to be able
to pay my bill straight off in the morning and
cheek 'em. It'll be near a thousand francs, and
I haven't got ten francs, besides having the
whole bally town against me." She laughed
and threw her head back. "Here! You go
along. Don't listen to me. It's not the first
time, neither the last. Go along now."

"I'm very sorry," said Lilian. She simply
could not conceive that the girl, possibly no
older than herself, was standing alone and un-

The Benefactress 225

^-'- ^ — — — ^» ■ ■■ ■ ^M»« ■ I III I ■ ■■ — — — 1^— — ^^— — ^^— ■ I — . .11,^

aided against what was to her the universe.
How could these girls do it? What was the
quality in them that enabled them to do it?

She was in the intimidating, silent, mystery-
hiding corridor again. She listened at the
door, which she had left ajar, between the
bathroom and Felix's bedroom. No sound t
In the solacing, perfect tidiness of her room^
she poured some of the brandy into a glass
and then, taking her bag, returned to the bene-
factress.

"Here's your flask; thank you very much!'*
she said. "And here's a thousand francs, if
it's any use to you." She produced the note
which Felix had given to her. The money
was accepted, greedily.

"If you're here in a week's time, in five days,
you'll have it back," said the benefactress,
looking at her wrist-watch. "No I It's too
late to go and play again now !" She giggled.
"Tell me your name. You can trust me. I
don't believe you're real, though ! You could-
n't be. There aren't such girls — anyhow at
your age. She stopped, and gave a tre-
mendous youthful sigh. "Ah!" she exclaimed.

226 Lilian

"If only I was dead. I often dream of lying
in my grave — eternal peace, eternal peace I
No emotions! No men! Quite still! Stretched
straight out! Quiet for ever and ever ! Eternal
peace! D'you know I've been like that all my
life? My God!"

Lilian burst into tears, agonized. The
original benefactress flung herself at the other
benefactress with amazing violence, and they
kissed, weeping.

A quarter of an hour later the defier of
Scapini murmured:

"I wish to heaven I could do something for
your

Lilian answered:

"I wish you'd tell me how you stain your
skin that lovely Spanish colour."

And she immediately received, not merely
the instructions, but the complete materials
necessary for the operation.

VII
THE DOCTOR

T^THEN she awoke the next morning
▼ ▼ after a very few hours' sleep, she did
so suddenly, to a full consciousness of her
situation, and not little by little, passing by
gradual stages to realization, as was her wont.
She listened ; no sound came through the two
half -open doors. The brandy had not been
needed. Perhaps he was asleep; perhaps he
had had a good night and was perfectly re-
stored. She rose, unfastened the window and
very quietly pushed back the shutters. It was
raining. Just as she was, her hair loose and
the delicate and absurd rag of a nightdress all
untied, she surveyed herself sternly in the
mirror. She was well content with her beauty.
Impossible to criticise it! In every way she
was far more beautiful than the nameless
woman whom she had befriended and who had
befriended her.

227

228 Lilian

Partly because she had been generous to her,
she felt sympathy for the girl. The phrase
"us girls" stung her still, but it was not ill
meant ; in fact, it was a rather natural phrase,
and no doubt already her acquaintance must
have perceived how wrong it was. She ad-
mired the girl for her fierce defiance and cour-
age, and for the intense passion with which she
had desired the grave. "Stretched straight
out I Quiet for ever and ever I" Startling and
outrageous words, in that harsh young voice;
but there was something fine about them I
("I may say the same one day soon," Lilian
thought solemnly.) Moreover, she under-
stood better the power of the girl, whose kiss
and clasp had communicated to her a most
disconcerting physical thrill. Indeed it seemed
to her that she was on the threshold of all
sorts of new comprehensions. Finally she had
astonished the girl by the grand loan ; she had
shone; she had pleased; she had satisfied her
instinct to give pleasure. She thought:

"She may be stronger than I am, and clev-
erer ; but she is very silly and I am not. And

The Doctor 229

I'm not weak either, even if some people take
me for weak."

It was disturbing, though, how that phrase
pricked and pricked : "Us girls." Little flames
shot up from the ashes of her early and aban-
doned religion. "The wages of sin — the wages
of sin." Was it true about the wages of sin?
Was she to be punished? The great, terrible
fear of conception still dominated her soul;
and it grew hourly. At each disappointing
dawn the torture of it increased. She saw the
powders and preparations which the courtesan
had given her; she recalled the minute direc-
tions for the use of them, and smiled painfully.
How could the prospective mother employ
such devices ? Nevertheless, if she escaped, she
would employ them as soon as Felix was
better. She knew that Felix would delight in
the perverse, provocative transformation, and
she yearned to gratify him afresh in a novel
manner. When the surprise came upon him
he would pretend that it was nothing; but he
would be delighted, he would revel in it.

Putting on her peignoir she slipped noise-
lessly into the other bedroom, and crept up to

230 Lilian

p— — — ^ i— — — — — — — — — m

the bed. Needless precaution : Felix was wide
awake, staring at the ceiling. Before speak-
ing she tenderly kissed him, and kept her face
for a moment on his.

"Better ?"

"Had an awful night. Couldn't sleep a
wink. I won't get up just yet. Order me tea
instead of coffee. We'll go out after lunch,
not before."

"Do you think you ought to go out,
dearest?"

"Of course I ought to go out," he snapped
peevishly.

"It's raining."

"Oh, well, if it's raining I daresay I shan't
want to go out." He placed his hand nerv-
ously on his right breast.

'Does it hurt you?"

Not at all. Can't I touch myself?"

She kissed him again. Then he gazed at her
with love, as she moved over him to ring the
bell.

"You all right?"

Oh, splendid! I listened once or twice at

<<j

The Doctor 231

the door, but as I didn't hear anything I made
sure you were asleep."

She kept silence about her awful, persistent
fear, knowing that any reference to it would
only irritate him. He was more than ever like
a child — and a captious child. She realized the
attitude of his sister towards him. Thank God
he was better! If he had fallen ill she would
have condemned herself as a criminal for life,
for her insane, selfish suggestion of an ex-
cursion to the hills at night. Not he, but she,
was the child.

After his tea he did get up and dress; but
he would not descend to lunch ; nor eat in the
bedroom. At three o'clock he said that when
it rained on the Riviera the climate was the
most damnable on earth, and that he preferred
to be in bed. And to bed he returned. Then
Lilian noticed him fingering his breast again.
Any pain there?"

: Oh, nothing! Nothing. Only a sort of
sensation. ,,

Soon afterwards he gave a few very faint,
short, dry coughs — scarcely perceptible efforts
to clear the throat. And at the same Lilian

«i

252 Lilian

went cold. She knew that cough. She had
helped to nurse her father. It was the af-
frighting pneumonia cough. Almost simul-
taneously it occurred to her that Felix was
trying to hide from her a difficulty in breath-
ing. She had not dreamed of anything so bad
as pneumonia, which for her was the direst of
all diseases. And she with a plan for dyeing
her skin to amuse and excite him! . . . She
had thought of a severe chill at the worst.

She hurried downstairs to see the concierge.
The lift was too slow in coming up for her;
she had to run down the flights of carpeted
steps one after another. The main question
on her mind was: "Ought I to telegraph to
his sister?" If Miss Grig arrived, what would,
what could, happen to herself? The concierge,
a dark, haughty, long-moustached, somewhat
consumptive subject, adored Lilian for her
beauty, and she had rewarded his worship with
exquisite smiles and tones.

"Would you like the English doctor,
Madam?" said he.

"Is there an English doctor here?" She
was immensely relieved. She would be able to

The Doctor 233

talk to an English doctor, whereas a French
doctor with his shrugs and science, and under-
standing nothing you said • • •

"Surely, madam! I will telephone at once,
madam. He shall he here in one quarter hour.
I know where he is. He is a very good doctor/'

"Oh, thank you!" Concierges were mar-
vellous persons.

As soon as she had gone again the concierge
made all the pages tremble. It was the
thwarted desire to kneel at Lilian's feet and
kiss her divine shoes that caused him to ter-
rorize the pages.

As for telegraphing to Miss Grig, she de-
cided that obviously she could send no message
till the doctor had examined and reported. In
regard to the hotel authorities and servants she
now had no shame. She alone was responsible
for Felix's welfare, and she would be respon-
sible, and they must all think what they liked
about her relations with him. She did not care.

The concierge was indeed marvellous, for
in less than twenty minutes there was a knock
at Felix's door. Lilian opened, saw a profes-

234 Lilian

sional face with hair half sandy, half grey, and
turning to Felix murmured:

"It's the doctor, darling."

Felix, to whom she had audaciously said not
a word about sending for a doctor, actually
sat up, furious.

"I'm not going to see a doctor," he gasped.
"I'm not going to see any doctor."

"Come in, doctor, please."

The moment was dramatic. Felix of course
was beaten.

"You'll find me in the next room, doctor,"
she said after a minute, and the doctor bowed.
In another ten minutes the doctor entered her
bedroom.

"It's a mild attack of pneumonia," said he,
standing in front of her. "Very mild. I can
see no cause for anxiety. You'd better have
a nurse for the night."

"I would sooner sit up myself," Lilian an-
swered. "I've nursed pneumonia before."

"Then have a nurse for the day," the doctor
suggested. "I can get an English one from
the Alexandra Hospital — a very good one.
She might come in at once and stay till ten

The Doctor 235

o'clock, say." Then he proceeded to the treat-
ment, prescriptions, and so on. An English
nurse!

Lilian felt extraordinarily grateful and re-
assured. She knew where she was now. She
was in England again.

"Ought I to telegraph home?" she asked.

"I shouldn't if I were you," the doctor re-
plied. "Better to wait for a day or two.
Telegrams are so disturbing, aren't they?"

His gentle manner was inexpressibly sooth-
ing. It was so soothing that just as he was
leaving she kept him back with a gesture.

"Doctor, before you go, I wish you would
do something for me." And she sat down,
her face positively burning, and shed tears.

In the night, as she sat with Felix, the pa-
tient's condition unquestionably improved.
He even grew cheerful and laudatory.

"You're a great girl," he muttered weakly
but firmly. "I knew I was most absurdly
cross, but I'm a rotten invalid."

She looked at him steadily, and, her secret
resolve enfeebled by his surprising and ravish-
ing appreciation, she let forth against the

236 Lilian

dictates of discretion the terrific fact which was
overwhelming her and causing every fibre in
her to creep.

"It's true what I told you."

'What?"

'You know " (A pause.)

'How do you know it's true?"

The doctor-

«mi . j ■ »

His reception of the tidings falsified every
expectation. He waited a moment and then
said calmly :

"That's all right. Ill see to that."
She did not kiss him, but, sitting on the bed,
put her head beside his on the pillow. Seen
close, his eyelashes appeared as big as horse-
hairs and transcendently masculine. She
tasted the f ull, deep savour of life then, move-
less, in an awkward posture, in the midst of the
huge sleeping hotel. She had no regrets, no
past, only a future.

VIII

MARRIAGE

LILIAN went to bed in the morning, not
only with the assurance that Felix was
in no danger but with his words echoing in her
heart: "We shall get married — here — the
moment I'm fit." She was nursing his body;
he was nursing her mind. He had realised at
once, of course, that the situation was com-
pletely altered, and that he had now one sole
duty — his duty towards her. And moreover
he had cared for her pride — had not used the
least word or even inflection to indicate that
she was absolutely dependent on his good na-
ture. The very basis of his attitude towards
her was that he and she were indivisible in
the matter. She rose about two o'clock, and
she had scarcely got out of bed when the Irish
nurse, Kate O'Connor, tapped at her door, and
having received permission to enter, came in
with a conspiratorial air.

237

238 Lilian

"I heard you stirring. He's going on splen-
didly," said the glinting-eye Kate, clad from
head to foot in whitest white. "But he sent me
out of the room after we'd had our little talk
with Dr. Samson, and the doctor stayed some
while afterwards. Then there came another
gentleman, French gentleman, and I was sent
out again. He told me not to say anything
to you, and I promised I wouldn't ; but natur-
ally I must tell you."

Lilian thanked her undisturbed, guessing
that Felix was at work upon the arrangements
for the marriage. In the night he had asked
her: "Where were you born? What parish?"
And on her inquiring why he wanted to know
he had replied casually: "Oh, it's nothing.
Just curiosity." But she had not been de-
ceived. She understood him, — how he loved
to plan and organise their doings by himself,
saying naught.

The fact was that he had been asking the
doctor about local lawyers, and, having
learned what he desired, he had sent for the
most suitable avoue and put into his hands all
the business of the marriage of two British

Marriage 239

subjects in a French town. Apparently, as
he had foreseen, the chief documents required
were the birth certificates of himself and Lil-
ian, and he had telegraphed for these to his
own solicitor in London.

Lilian continued to receive no information
concerning the progress of the formalities, and
she sought for none. She lived in a state of
contemplation. Her anxieties, except the
vague, wonderful, and semi-mystical anxiety
of far-off motherhood had been dissipated.
She was uplifted ; she had a magnificent sense
of responsibility, which gave her a new dig-
nity, gravity and assurance. Kate O'Connor
called her "madam," and referred to her as
"madam," especially when speaking to Felix.
The assumption underlying the behaviour of
everybody was that she was Felix's wife. As
for the French lawyer, she never even saw him.

Meanwhile Felix's recovery was unexpect-
edly slow, and he went through several slight
relapses. Now and then his voice was sud-
denly become hoarse and faint, and with the
same suddenness it resumed the normal. At
length he grew cantankerous. The two

240 Lilian

I ■

women were delighted, telling each other that
this crochetiness was a certain sign of strength.
One day he got up and dressed fully and sat
at the window for half an hour, returning to
bed immediately afterwards. The same eve-
ning he convinced Lilian that there was no
more need for her to watch through the night.

The next morning when Lilian entered his
room the nurse was not there.

"I've sent her off," Felix explained. "I
much prefer to have you with me than any
nurse on earth." He was dressed before ten
thirty. "Now put your things on," said he.

'What for? I don't want to go out."

We're going out together. Look what a
fine day it is! We're going to be married at
eleven o'clock, at the mc&rie. Now hurry up."
His voice hardened into a command.

"But — but does Dr. Samson agree to you
going out?" she asked, quite over-taxed.

"Samson doesn't know, as it happens; but
if he did of course he'd agree."

She might have refused to go. But could
she refuse to go and be married, she, the bearer
of his child? She perceived that he had been

Marriage 241

too clever for her, had trapped her, in his de-
termination to regularize her situation at the
earliest possible moment. She forced a timid
smile and covered him up for the journey.

The lift-boy smiled a welcome to him. The
concierge was the very symbol of attentive
deference, and in the carriage enveloped Lil-
ian's feet with the rug as though they had been
two precious jewels — as they were. The man-
ager himself made a majestic appearance, and
shot out congratulations like stars from a Ro-
man candle. And the weather was supremely
gorgeous.

At the mairie waited the avoue and his clerk,
who were to act as witnesses. The avoue and
Felix talked to dirty and splendid officials;
Felix and Lilian signed papers.

"Now you've only got one thing to do," said
Felix. "When I nudge you, say, € Ovi, mon-
sieur le maxre! "

They were inducted into the sanctuary of
celebration, and Lilian saw a fat gentleman
wearing the French national flag for a waist-
band. It would have been very comical had
it not been so impressive. The ceremony

242 Lilian

started, Lilian understanding not a word.
Felix nudged her. She murmured, "Old,
monsieur le moire" \ . . The ceremony
closed. Immediately afterwards Felix hand-
ed her a sort of little tract in a yellowish-brown
cover.

"You're married now, and if anybody says
you aren't, show 'em this."

The avoue was tremendous with bows and
smiles. They drove back to the hotel. They
were in the bedroom. Lilian took Felix ap-
prehensively by the shoulders.

"Oh, darling. You're sure it hasn't done
you any harm?"

"And that's not quite all. There's my will,"
said he. "Ring the bell."

He spoke to Jacqueline, who after a few
minutes brought in an English valet and an
English lady's maid. Felix was set upon hav-
ing his will witnessed by people with English
addresses. He silently gave Lilian the will
to read. He had written it himself. In three
lines it bestowed upon her all that was his.
Not a syllable about his sister. Well, that was
quite right, because Miss Grig had means of

Marriage 243

her own. Sitting in the easy-chair, with a
blotting pad on his knees, Felix signed the
will. Then the valet and the lady's maid
signed, with much constraint and flourish.
Felix gave them fifty francs apiece, and dis-
missed them.

"Put that with your marriage certificate,"
he said to Lilian, folding up the will and offer-
ing it to her. "I think I'll get back to bed.
Exhausting work, being married!" He
laughed shortly. "I'm going to sleep," he said
later, after he had eaten and drunk. "You be
off downstairs and have your lunch."

But of course she could not go downstairs.
She dropped into her bed, staggered by the
swift evolution of her career. Staggered by
it! Lo! She was a typewriting girl wearing
wristlets, poor, hopeless, with no prospects. A
little while, and lo! she was the wife of a rich
and brilliant adorer, and an honest man in
whom her trust was absolute. And she was
pregnant. Strange fear invaded her mind, the
ancient fear that too much happiness is a crime
that destiny will punish.

IX
THE PARTING

FELIX seriously ill; double pneumonia;
we are married. — Lilian Grig." Ten
words, plus Isabel's address and her own! She
wrote the telegram after several trials, in her
bedroom, on half a sheet of the hotel note-
paper, Kate O'Connor standing by her side,
the next morning but one.

"Give it me," said the white nurse. "I'll see
to it for you, Mrs. Grig, as I go home."

She looked up at the nurse, and the nurse,
eyes no longer laughing, looked down at her.
The nurse knew everything, and moreover
must have assisted at scores of tragedies; yet
Lilian regarded her as an innocent Uo under-
stood nothing essential in life. Her comfort-
ing kiss was like the kiss of a very capable child
pretending to be grown up.

Voices in the other bedroom! The doctor
had arrived and was talking to the second

244

The Parting 245

nurse. They went in together. Felix lay a
changed man, horribly aged. He was a man
who had suddenly learned that in order to live
it was necessary to breathe, and that breathing
may be an intensely difficult operation of me-
chanics. His lined, wrinkled face was drawn
with the awful anxieties incident to breathing,
and with the acute pain in both lungs. The
enemy was growing in strength and Felix was
losing strength, but he could not surrender.
He must continue to struggle, despite the
odds, and there was no referee to stop the fight,
either on the ground that it had developed into
an assassination or on any other ground. The
brutality had to proceed. And the sun
streamed through the window; and outside,
from the promenade where the idlers were
strolling and the band was playing, the win-
dow looked exactly the same as all the other
windows of the enormous hotel.

After an examination, Dr. Samson injected
morphia. The result was almost instan-
taneous. The victim, freed from the anxiety
of the pain, could devote the whole of his
energy to breathing. He sighed, and smiled

246 Lilian

—— ^—— »^— — — — — — i— — — — — — — —— — ■ i

as if he had entered paradise. He gave a few
short, faint coughs, like the cough of a nervous
veiled woman in church, and said in a hoarse,
feeble, whispering voice:

"You must understand, doctor, it was all
my fault. I insisted, and what could she do?"
The two nurses modestly bent their gaze.

"Yes, yes," the doctor concurred.

Felix had already made the same announce-
ment several times.

"But I want everybody to know," he per-
sisted.

"Yes, yes," said the doctor. "I shall give
you some oxygen this morning. It will be
here in a minute. That will do you a lot of
good. You'll see."

Lilian was the calmest person in the room.
She had decided that there was no hope, and
had braced herself and become matter-of-fact.
She was full of health, power, and magnificent
youth, and the living seed of Felix was within
her. She quietly kissed Felix on his damp
cheek ; no gold now glistened in his half -empty
mouth. She returned to her own bedroom,
and Dr. Samson followed.

The Parting 247

"He's much worse," she said firmly to the
doctor,

"He is not better," said the doctor. "But
there is always hope,"

She glanced sadly at the soft and mournful
face of the middle-aged doctor. Nurse Kate
had told her the story of the doctor, who was
a widower and solitary and possibly consump-
tive, and on account of his lungs practised on
the Riviera during the winter. The vast
tragedy of the world obsessed her; there was
no joy nor pleasure in the whole world, and
the ceaseless activities of gaiety that wearied
the hotel and the Casino and the town and the
neighbouring towns seemed to her monstrous,
pathetic, and more tragic even than Felix's
bed.

For five days she cabled daily to Miss Grig,
and got nothing in reply. Felix's strength
consistently waned. And neither morphia nor
oxygen could help him more than momenta-
rily. Jacqueline, the nurses, the doctor, treated
Lilian as a holy madonna. They all exclaimed
at her marvellous steadfastness. The man-
ager of the hotel paid a decorous call of in-

248 Lilian

quiry — though it was apparent that he was al-
ready familiar with every detail — and he too
treated Lilian as a holy madonna. Two days
later, in the evening, just after Nurse Kate
had come on duty, Felix held out his hand for
his wife's hand, and, casting off his frightful
physical preoccupation, said in a normal voice:

"Everything's in order. Don't be an idle
woman, my poor girl."

She dropped on her knees, and throwing her
arms on his body, cried:

"Darling, I've killed you!" (The thought
that she had brought about his death was her
continual companion.) But Felix, utterly ab-
sorbed again in the ghastly effort to breathe,
had no ears for the wild outburst. In the
night he died. He had written a short note
to his sister before the great relapse, and since
then had not even mentioned her.

THE WREATH

DR. SAMSON sat with Lilian in her
bedroom late the next night. It was
the middle of the night. He was taller than
Felix, and not so old; his face was more flat
and milder, but there was something in his ex-
pression and about the wrinkles round his eyes
that reminded her of Felix, and he had at-
tached himself to her to serve her; his mourn-
ful gaze appealed to her. It was he who had
made her understand that death in a hotel de-
voted to gaiety was an indiscretion, a lapse
from good taste, that must be carefully hidden.
He stood faithfully between her and the world,
the captive of her beauty, wanting no reward
but the satisfaction of having helped her.

Not that much help was needed. The
routine of such episodes was apparently fixed.
Things moved of themselves. All requirements
seemed to be met automatically. There was

249

250 Lilian

—— ^—— »^— — — — — — .— — — — — — — —— — ■ i

even an English cemetery in the region.
Early on the morning after the death a young
woman in black had called to present the card
of a great Paris shop with a branch in the
town, and by the evening Lilian was dressed in
black. The layer-out had arrived earlier yet
than the dressmaker. Dr. Samson had inter*
viewed the manager of the hotel. An im-
portant part of the routine was that the
whole of the furniture of Felix's room should
be removed, and the room refurnished at
the cost of the representative of the dead,
Dr. Samson settled the price. Lilian de-
cided to give the old furniture to the Alex-
andra Hospital. The doctor had volunteered
to finance Lilian till she should be back in
London; but afterwards the equivalent of
nearly £400 in French and English money
was discovered in Felix's dispatch-case, the
inside of which Lilian had never seen. The
doctor had also sent off the telegram to the
mute Miss Grig: "Felix died in the night; am
returning London immediately," and got the
railway ticket, and accomplished the legal
formalities preliminary to the burial, and

The Wreath 251

warned the English chaplain, and ordered a
gravestone in a suitable design and taken
Lilian's wishes as to the inscription thereon.
Nothing remained to be done but wait. Lilian
was quietly packing; the doctor sat watchful
to assist. They both heard a noise in the next
room; and at the noise Lilian was at last
startled from her calm. The moment, then,
had come. Dr. Samson went first. The
room, which ought to have been in dark-
ness, was lighted, and not by electricity but by
two candles, one on either side of the bed.

"Who has done this?" Lilian murmured, and
gave a sob.

The door into the corridor was locked; to
keep it locked had been part of the unalterable
routine. Therefore the candles could only
have been brought by somebody on the staff of
the hotel. The next instant Jacqueline en-
tered, through the bathroom. She was weep-
ing.

"Pardon me, madame. I couldn't go to bed.
I couldn't sleep. And I thought of the candles.
It was too much for me. I had to bring them.
If I was wrong, pardon me. . . . They will be

252 Lilian

here soon." She threw herself down on her
knees at the foot of the bejl. She had spoken
in French. The doctor interpreted.

"Tell her I thank her very much," said
Lilian, "and ask her to go to bed. She'll have
her work to do to-morrow, poor thing!"

Jacqueline rose. Lilian took her hand, and
turned away.

"And this came," Jacqueline added, point-
ing to a package in tissue paper that lay on a
chair. "The night porter has only just brought
it up, and as I was coming in with the con-
dies. . . ."

Lilian removed the tissue-paper and saw a
magnificent wreath of lilies, far finer than any-
thingin her experience, . wreath for an in,
perial monarch. In the middle was a white
envelope. She opened the envelope; it con-
tained two French bank-notes for five hundred
francs each. No signature ! Not a word I

"She has got her money," thought Lilian.
"How?" And, placing the wreath on Felix's
feet, she burst into tears.

Jacqueline had vanished. Suddenly Lilian
began to stride to and fro across the room. She

The Wreath 253

was full of youth and force. She was full of
fury and resentment. The moving muscles of
her splendid, healthy body could be discerned
through her black dress. She frightened the
doctor.

"Ah!" she cried, with a gesture towards the
wreath, "she is the only one that understands
that I don't want to be comforted I Nobody
else has understood. I expect she just heard
that he was dead, and she doesn't know that I
killed him; but she understood. She under-
stood." The doctor, quite mystified, seized her
arm to soothe her, and was astonished at her
strength as she shook him off. She was like a
tigress. Nevertheless she let herself be per-
suaded to follow him into her own room. There
her eye caught the toilet preparations which the
courtesan had bestowed on her.

"And she gave me these I" Lilian laughed,
hesitated, and added fiercely: "I will take them
back with me!" And she cast them into one
of the open trunks. Then she said calmly:
"Of course I know it was because of the win-
dow of the car being broken, and it would have
been all right if the engine hadn't stopped.

254 Lilian

But it was my silly, silly idea to go out for a
drive at night. ... I can't help it! I did kill
him ! He'd have been alive now if I hadn't be-
haved myself like a perfect child !"

The doctor offered no remark. She resumed
all her old tranquillity, wiping her eyes care-
fully with a fine, tiny handkerchief that Felix
had given her. The bearers arrived a quarter
of an hour later, discreet, f urtive, and sinister.
The hotel slept in its vastness. All gaiety was
asleep. But even if some devoted slave of dis-
sipation had surprised them on their way back,
he could not have guessed that it was a coffin
they bore. The doctor, by using his profes-
sional prestige, kept Lilian in her own room
till the bearers were nearly ready to depart
with more than they had brought. She went
into the mortuary. The coffin was disguised.
Picking up the wreath, which had been forgot-
ten or intentionally left, she placed it upon the
coffin and beneath the disguise. It lay there
alone in its expensive grandeur. The bearers
withdrew with their burden, tiptoeing along the
dim, silent corridor lest revellers should be dis-
turbed from well-earned, refreshing sleep and

The Wreath 255

open their doors to see what was afoot in the
night. The cortege was lost to view round the
corner at the end of the corridor. The doctor
remained a little while, and he also prepared to
go. The two nurses Lilian would never see
again.

"You should go to bed now and try to sleep.
I'll call for you in good time to-morrow for
the funeral."

Lilian shook her head.

"No, I'm going to pack his things now." She
stood at the door of his room, and watched the
doctor also disappear from view round the
corner at the end of the corridor.

PART FOUR

Part Four

THE RETURN

IT was early in July, on one of those long
summer evening of which the melancholy
twilight seems determined never to end, that
Lilian, from Victoria Station, drove up to her
late husband's house, now her own. The events
leading to the arrival, and giving it a most poig-
nant dramatic quality, had one after another
as they occurred impressed everybody con-
cerned as being very strange and sinister; but
seen in perspective they took on a rather ordi-
nary complexion.

At the very moment of leaving the Riviera
Lilian had heard that Miss Grig, on her way
to the South to see Felix, had been detained
in Paris by serious ptomaine poisoning due to
food eaten at home. Had Miss Grig been able
to get a berth in the through Calais-Mediter-

259

260 Lilian

^^ ^— — — «^ — — ■— ^ 1— *,

ranee express, she might well have died in
the train; but she had not been able to get a
berth and had travelled by a service which
11M s*,.l„„ (Pm l, ta , She never
did cross Paris. Railway officials carried her
to the Hotel Terminus, and medical aid was
obtained just in time. For several days she
was lost, like a mislaid and helpless parcel in
the international post. As soon as she could
move again she returned home, for Felix was
by then dead, and buried.

Lilian, on her part, did travel towards Lon-
don by the through Calais-Mediterranee ex-
press, alighting at Calais extremely exhausted
after twenty-eight hours on the railway. A
gale was raging in the Channel. The steamer
failed to enter Dover, a vast harbour con-
structed in defiance of common-sense for the
inconvenience of seafarers, and put in at Folke-
stone. This detail changed the course of
Lilian's journey. She was lifted ashore suf-
fering acutely from sickness and nervous shock
caused by the storm. At Dover she would as-
suredly not have remained more than a day or
two ; but Folkestone is a health-resort, and, in-

The Return 261

stalled in a big hotel on the Leas, she was
tempted to let week drift after week in languid
and expectant meditation. Felix's solicitor
came down several times from London to see
her and take her instructions. From him she
had news of Miss Grig and of the business;
but she neither saw Miss Grig nor heard from
her ; the silence between the two mourners was
absolute; and Lilian would not be the first to
break it; moreover, there was no official need
for letters to pass, each party being always well
informed of the situation through the medium
of the lawyer. At the close of the Riviera sea-
son Lilian had a flattering surprise. Dr. Sam-
son the faithful came to see her in Folkstone.
He was staying at another hotel. He desired
nothing, hoped for nothing, except to exhibit
his fidelity. She had in him someone upon
whom she could exercise her instinct to please,
and to whom she could talk about the unique
qualities of Felix. But also she had grown
capricious and uncertain in temper. Perceiv-
ing at once that her little outbursts charmed
and delighted him, she did not check them, but
rather bestowed them upon him as favours ; and

262 Lilian

the gloomy, fretful, transformed girl in un-
becoming black played with some spirit the
role of spoiled virgin from whom a suppliant
adorer anticipates one day complete surrender.
It was touching and at the same time comical
As spring glowed into summer two factors
gradually decided Lilian to proceed to London.
Visitors increased in Folkestone; the Leas were
no longer a desert, and she didn't care to be
much remarked. And further, Dr. Samson
advised her to have her child in London, and to
settle there well in advance of the ordeal. He
suggested more than one house; but Lilian
would listen to no counsel on this matter. She
gave out sharply that she would have Felix's
child in Felix's house, which was her house —
and nowhere else. The ever-silent Miss Grig
was still there, but Lilian had no objection to
her staying there. She knew what was due to
her husband's sister. She sent for the solicitor
and invited him to make all the arrangements
and to report when he had done so. In due.
course she journeyed to London, deliberately
missing train after train on the day of depar-
ture. Dr. Samson accompanied her to the

The Return 263

doorstep of her house and Felix's, he paid the
taxi-driver, and then he shook hands and van-
ished. She wished to present herself alone, and
to this end had postponed ringing the bell until
all that Dr Samson could do was done.

The facade of the house had been modern-
ized, not untastefully, and was different from
nearly all the other houses in Montpelier
Square. The front door was of a rich, deep
blue. The curtains of the windows had in-
dividuality. Lilian looked the f a?ade up and
down and from side to side. She had not even
seen the house before ; no, nor yet the Square.
Felix I It was all Felix. "Felix" was
written right across it. And it was hers —
at any rate the lease of the house was hers!
It belonged to none but herself. She knew
the fact, but could not imaginatively grasp
it, and the effort to grasp it made her feel
faint with emotion. She was frightened, she
was proud, she was ashamed, she was defiant,
she was almost sick.

"Why did I insist on coming here like this?"
she thought. "No girl was ever in such a posi-
tion before!"

264 Lilian

The blue door opened as it were the door of
a chamber of unguessed tortures. A flush
spread slowly over Lilian's face.

"Now," she thought, "now I am in the
middle of it all, and can't go back."

A parlourmaid stood in the doorway, tall,
stiff, prim, perfect — such a creature as would
have refused to recognise for fellow creatures
the cook-generals of Putney. Her mature,
hard face relaxed into the minimum of a cere-
monial smile.

"Oh, good evening!" said Lilian awkwardly,
no better than a typewriting girl, and stepped
into the house.

"Good evening'm," said the parlourmaid,
and, as she realized Lilian's condition the face
relented still further and its smile flickered into
genuineness. Though her eyes and mouth
showed that she was virtuous to the verge of
insanity, she seemed to be moved, in spite of
herself, by the spectacle of languid and soft and
mourning Lilian.

"Miss Grig wished me to say that she is en-
gaged for the moment. She was expecting
you earlier in the day. And shall I show you

The Return 265

the principal bedroom? And if you have any
orders. . . . Yes'm," following Lilian's glance
at her trunks piled in the porch — "weVe got a
young man in as will see to them."

Lilian sat down on an old carved chair with
a wooden seat. How characteristic and horrid
of Miss Grig not to be ready to receive her!
Not that she, Lilian, the mistress of the house,
needed a reception from anyone! Certainly
not I This notion braced and fortified her. A
young man did appear fussily from the dark
basement staircase, and pulled the trunks one
after another within the house. The front
door was then shut. The hall and upward
staircase were already gently lighted for the
evening. Beautiful silk shades over the two
lamps I Not a very large house, nor very lux-
urious! But the carpets, furniture, and pic-
tures had for Lilian just the peculiar distinc-
tion which she had hoped for. They recalled
the illustrations of interiors in The Studio
which used to come every month to Putney;
and they were utterly different from the Put-
ney furniture. Felix! All Felix! No Miss
Grig! Impossible that there should be a trace

266 Lilian

of Miss Grig anywhere! This interior had
been Felix's habitation. In a sense it was "the
history of Felix, his mind, his taste. She would
have to study it, to learn it.

This interior was the first family interior
she had seen since Putney. She was entering
it after a period of awful lodging-houses and
garish impersonal hotels. It was touchingly
beautiful to her. The baby should be born in
it, should grow up in it, should know it as the
home of memory. . . . Then it became a vision,
a hallucination, and the owning of it be-
came an illusion. How could she own it?
Only yesterday Miss Grig had thrown her out
of Clifford Street with a week's wages for a
weapon to fight the whole world with. All
that had happened since was untrue and hadn't
happened.

"I'll go upstairs," she said coldly to the par-
lourmaid. She had to be cold in order to be
dignified. Milly Merrislate used to pose like
that sometimes. The resemblance annoyed
her, but what could she do in her weakness
against the power of the situation? She did as
best she might.

The Return 267

On the first floor the parlourmaid, switching
lights off and on, said :

"This is the bathroom and so on/'

"Yes. That is Miss Grig's room," in a
hushed voice.

Lilian murmured no affirmative at the face
of the shut door ; her eyes had a gleam of cru-
elty, and involuntarily her hands clenched.
The house began to grow enormous, endless.

"This is the principal bedroom." They went
into it. Curtains drawn. Two soft lights. A
narrowish bed. The dressing-table naked. A
wonderful easy-chair. Polished surfaces every-
where. Cunning, mild tints — the whole mys-
teriously beautiful. Felix I She sank into the
easy-chair, drawing off her black gloves. An-
other maid and the young man were bumping
the trunks up the stairs.

"Will you have everything brought in
here'm?"

"Please." She asked that two of the trunks
should be pushed under the bed; they were
Felix's. The other maid and the young man
departed.

"Will you take anything'm?"

268 Lilian

— ^ ■——■—— i— ■^—^i — ■

"No, thank you."

The parlourmaid softened again.

"Some tea and some nice bread-and-butter?"

Lilian gave a smile of appreciation, and
thought :

I will make this girl fond of me. 9
Up here'm?'
'Yes, please. 3

She was alone. The room was full of secrets.
She opened a wardrobe, and started back;
it held Felix's suits. She gazed at herself in
the mirror of the naked dressing-table; tears
were slipping down her wasted white cheeks.
Mechanically she pulled at a drawer. Neck-
ties, scores of them, neatly arranged. Could
one man have possessed so many neckties? She
picked up a necktie at random, striped in vio-
lent colours. She did not know, and could
not have known, that the colours were those of
a famous school club. She was entirely igno-
rant of the immense, the unparalleled prestige
of club colours in the organized life of the rul-
ing classes. Mechanically again, she put the
necktie to her mouth, nibbled at it, bit it pas-
sionately, voluptuously; the feel of the woven

The Return 269

stuff thrilled her; and that club necktie was
understood, comprehended, realized, as no club
necktie ever before in all the annals of the
sacred public-school tradition. Lilian sobbed
like a child. The parlourmaid entered with the
tea and the nice bread-and-butter, and saw
the child munching the necktie, and was shaken
in the steely citadel of her virtue.

"You'll feel better when youVe drunk
this'm," said the parlourmaid lumpily, pouring
out some tea. "Hadn't you better sit down'm?
. . . It won't do for you to tire yourself ."

God I The highly-trained girl so far forgot
herself as to spill a tear into the milk-jug!

MISS GBIO

LILIAN, having fulfilled the prophesy of
the parlourmaid and felt better after
drinking the tea, had just released her shoul-
ders from her dust cloak and dropped her for-
lorn little hat on the carpet, when she heard a
firm, light tap.

"May I come in?"

Miss Grig entered and shut the door care-
fully.

Lilian tried to get up from the low easy-
chair.

"Please I Please! Don't move. You must
be exhausted."

Miss Grig advanced and shook hands. Lil-
ian raised her eyes and lowered them. Miss
Grig was shockingly, incredibly aged. In
eight months she had become an old woman
and a tragic woman. (The lawyer had omit-
ted to furnish Lilian with this information.)

270

Miss Grig 271

But she was not less plump. Indeed, owing
to the triumph of her instinctive negligence in
attire over an artificial coquetry no longer
stimulated by the presence of a worshipped
man, she seemed stouter and looser than ever*
She was dressed for the street.

Lilian, extremely perturbed, looked at the
dilapidation and thought : "I have done this."
She also thought: "This is the woman that
turned me out of my situation because she
fancied Felix was after me — not me after Fe-
lix. What a cruel shame it was!" And thus,
though she felt guilty, she felt far more re-
sentful than guilty. What annoyed her was
that she felt so young and callow in face of the
old woman, and that she was renewing the
humiliating sensations of their previous inter-
view. She felt like the former typist, and the
wedding-ring on her finger had somehow no
force to charm away this feeling so uncom-
fortable and illogical. She was not aware that
her own appearance, pathetic in its unshapely
mingling of the girl and the matron, in turn
was impressively shocking to Miss Grig.
'I thought I ought just to say good-bye to

272 Lilian

you before leaving/' said Miss Grig in a calm,
polite but quavering voice.

'Are you leaving?" Lilian exclaimed fool-
ishly. "I expected you to—

Felix left everything to you "

I had nothing at all to do with the will-

"Oh, no ! I didn't suppose for a moment you
had. Felix would never consult anybody in
such matters. I'm not complaining. Felix
was quite right. He made you his wife and
he left you everything. It might have been
different if I'd no money of my own. But,
thank God I'm independent! * And I prefer
to have my own home." The tone was unex-
ceptionable, and yet Miss Grig managed to
charge with the most offensive significance the
two phrases: "He made you his wife" and
"Thank God I'm independent." It was as
if she had said: "He raised you up from be-
ing his kept woman to be his wife — he made
you honest — and he needn't have done!" and,
"If I'd been at the mercy of a chit like
you !"

But Lilian, while she fully noticed it, was

Miss Grig 273

insensible to the offence. She was thinking as
she sat huddled beneath Miss Grig erect :

"Who won? You didn't. I did. You
thought you'd finished me. But you hadn't."

And added to this was the scarcely con-
scious exultation of youth and energy con-
fronting the end of a career. The man for
whom they had fought was dead and long de-
cayed, but they were still fighting. It was
terrible. Lilian's feelings were terrible; she
realized that they were terrible ; but they were
her feelings. Worse, crueller than all, she re-
flected :

"One day you will come and swallow your
pride and beg me humbly for a sight of his
child!"

Miss Grig continued with wonderful dig-
nity:

"As I say, I thought it proper to stay till
you actually arrived, and formally hand over.
Though really there's nothing to be done. I
hope you'll find everything to your satisfac-
tion. The servants will stay, at any rate as
long as you need them. Of course I told them
beforehand how things are with you. The

274 Lilian

household accounts IVe given to Mr. Farjiac
today." (Mr. Farjiac was the solicitor.)
"And" — she opened her Dorothy bag — here
are the keys. Masters — that's the parlourmaid
— will tell you which is which."

Instead of handing the keys to Lilian, she
dropped them by the necktie on the dressing-
table, where they made a disturbing noise in
collision with the glass-top, — as if they had
cracked the glass (but they had not).

"I think that's everything."

"But about the business?" Lilian asked
weakly.

"Oh, yes, of course, I was forgetting. Mr.
Farjiac knows all about it. IVe left Gertie
Jackson in charge. She's very capable and
devoted. You needn't go near the place un-
less you care to. I've told her she should come
and see you to-morrow."

"But are you giving it up entirely?" Lilian,
who had heard not a word from the lawyer
as to this abandonment, was ready to cry.

"How can I give up what doesn't belong
to me?" asked Miss Grig, with a revolting
sweetness like the taste of horseflesh. "The

Miss Grig 275

business is yours, and it was never mine. I
merely managed it."

"Won't you take it?" Lilian burst out, losing
self-control in the reaction of her natural
benevolence against the awful bitterness of the
scene. "Take it all for yourself. I would so
like you to have it. I know you love it."

Miss Grig's tone in reply recalled the young
widow to the dreadful proprieties of the inter-

view.

No, thank you," said she coldly, with the
miraculous duplicity of wounded arrogance,
"I'm only too glad to be rid of the responsi-
bility and the hard work — at my age. I only
did it all to please Felix. So that now he's
dead . . . By the way I think I ought to let
you know that my poor brother's grave is sadly
neglected. And the headstone has a terribly
foreign look."

Miss Grig's "By the way" information ab-
solutely effaced the effect on Lilian of the mag-
nificent lie which preceded it. She was stag-
gered and she was insulted and outraged. Had
Miss Grig dared, without warning her, to go

276 Lilian

down to the Riviera and examine Felix's
grave?

"You've been there?" she demanded bro-
kenly. Miss Grig nodded.

"I ventured," she said with haughty defer-
ence, "to give orders about it. I hope you
don't disapprove."

"When did you go?"

"Oh I Not long since," said Miss Grig casu-
ally, carelessly, victoriously. "I must leave
you now. I think I've had all my own things
removed, and I hope nothing that belongs to
you. If there's anything wrong, or anything
I can do, will you write to Mr. Farjiac?"

She smiled gravely, steadily, and shook
hands; and carried off her grief, her frustra-
tion, her everlasting tragedy, safe and intact
and with pomp away from the poor, pretty
little chit whom destiny had chosen to be the
instrument of devastation.

Lilian sat dulled. The keys of the house lay
beside the damp and creased club necktie. She
heard a taxi arrive and the door bang and the
taxi depart. A hot, dry, mournful wind of the
summer night blew the curtains with a swish

Miss Grig 277

suddenly inwards and made Lilian shiver. Ah I
What would she not have given for an endless,
tearful, sobbing talk with the only other crea-
ture on earth who had worshipped Felix ? How
she would have confessed, abased herself, ac-
cused herself, excused herself, abandoned her-
self, uncovered her inmost soul, at the signal
of one soft word from Isabel Grig I Hellish
pride I Hellish implacable rancour I Glutton
of misery I The woman had not even offered
a syllable of goodwill for the welfare of the
coming baby I Nevertheless, Lilian's heart was
breaking for Isabel Grig. Who could blame
Isabel? Or who Lilian? The situation inevi-
tably arising from their characters and from
the character of the dead man had overpow-
ered both of them. Lilian thought of the neg-
lected grave, and of the courtesan's prayer,
"Eternal peace I No emotions I Stretched
straight out. Quiet for ever and ever I Eter-
nal peace!" In the indulgence of grief and
depression she wanted to keep the thought.
But she could not. She was too young and too
strong, and the edges of the dangerous future
were iridescent.

Ill

THE LIEUTENANT

LILIAN slept heavily and without mov-
ing, and when the parlourmaid aroused
her with more tea at nine o'clock according to
order, she drank half the first cup before the
process of waking was complete. Her mind
had been running jerkily:

"So she actually went all that way to see
his grave. And I haven't seen the stone my-
self. Of course Felix wrote to her when he
was getting better and told her he was going
to marry me. That's how she must have first
known I was out there with him. He wrote
on purpose to tell her. And she went all that
way to see my darling's grave and never said
a word to me! It's her feeling for Felix makes
her so cruel, poor thing. Oh I But she's so
hard, hard. Well, I could never be hard like
that — I don't care what happened. And it
won't make her any happier."

278

The Lieutenant 279

The parlourmaid returned with a parcel.
Oh, yes, I know what that is," said Lilian.
Just cut the string and put it down here, will
you?"

"Miss Jackson is waiting to see you'm. Will
you see her or shall I ask her to call to-night?"

"Miss Jackson I" Lilian exclaimed, agitated
by the swiftness of the sequence of events.
"Has she been waiting long?"

"No'm. Only about twenty minutes."
Why didn't you tell me before?"
I thought you ought to have your tea
quiet'm."

"How nice of you!" said Lilian, with a
weak, acquiescent smile. "But do ask her to
come in here now. She won't mind me being
in bed, will she?"

"I should hope not'm," said the parlourmaid,
pawing the ground.

Lilian pushed her lustreless hair out of her
eyes. The sun was shining on part of the
tumbled bed. Then Gertie Jackson came in.
Absolutely unchanged! The same neat, pro-
vincial, Islingtonian toilette. The same seri-
ous, cheerful, ingenuous gaze. The same un-

«r

«'

280 Lilian

i =

marred complexion. The same upright pose
and throwing back of the shoulders in uncon-
scious rectitude and calm intention to front
courageously the difficulties of the day. The
same mingling of self-respect and deference.
She bent over the bed; Lilian held up her face
like a child with mute invitation, and Gertie
kissed her. What a fresh, honest, innocent,
ignorant kiss on Lilian's hot, wasted, experi-
enced cheek I

. "You poor thing!" Gertrude murmured de-
votedly.

"I'm seven months gone nearly," Lilian mur-
mured, as if in despair.

"Well, it'll soon be over then!" said Gertie
buoyantly, in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Yes, but shall I ever again be like I was?"
Lilian demanded gloomily.

"Of course you will, dear. And prettier.
They almost always are, you know. I've often
noticed it."

"You dear!" cried Lilian, "and do you mean
to say you've got up earlier and come all the
way down from Islington here to see me be-

The Lieutenant 281

fore going to the office ? And me keeping you
waiting!"

"Why I But of course I came. I'm respon-
sible to you, now poor Miss Grig's gone. I
told her I would be. But I can't tell you how
glad I shall be if I suit you and you find you
can keep me on. It's such a good situation."

Lilian lifted her face again and kissed her,
— but not the kiss of gratitude (though there
was gratitude in it ) , the kiss of recompense, of
reward. It was Lilian who, in allowing her-
self to be faithfully served, was conferring the
f avour. Gertrude was the eternal lieutenant,
without ambition, without dreams, asking only
to serve with loyalty in security. In that mo-
ment Lilian understood as never before the
function of these priceless Gertrudes whose
first instinct when they lost one master was to
attach themselves to another.

"Look here!" said Lilian. "D'you know
what I want? I want you to come and live
here till it's over."

"Of course I will," Gertrude agreed, ea-
gerly ready to abandon her domestic habits and
interior for as long as she was required to do

«
«

282 Lilian

^HI||BH^HHBlHBHIHI^HHHHBHHHHHlBHBHHiMBI^HHHBMMiB^BHiHIHIH

so and to resume them whenever it might suit
Lilian's convenience. And all because Lilian
had been beautiful and successful and would
be beautiful and successful once more !

"You must come to-night, will you?" Lilian
insisted, transformed in a moment into the
spoilt and exacting queen.

Gertrude nodded, brightly beaming.
I do so want to talk to you," Lilian went on.
I've had nobody to talk to for — I mean like
you. D'you know, Felix would have been
alive now if it hadn't been for me." She burst
into tears, and then, recovering, began an in-
terminable detailed recital of events on the
Riviera, coupled with a laudation of Felix.
She revelled in it, and was shameless, well
aware that Gertrude would defend her against
herself. The relief which she felt was intense.

At the end of half an hour, when the torrent
had slackened, Gertrude said :

"I really think I'd better be going now.
What time would you like me to come to-
night? I'm quite free because I'm not taking
night duty this week. It's Milly's week."
And as she was leaving she turned back rather

The Lieutenant 283

»^— ^^— — ^— ■ ^ — ^— — — 1

nervously to the bed. "D'you mind me sug-
gesting one thing? I wouldn't have you over-
tire yourself ; but if you could just show your-
self at the office, I feel it would be such a good
thing for all of us. The girls would under-
stand then who the new employer is. Some
of them are very stupid, you know. If you
could just show yourself — a quarter of an
hour. It's for your own sake, dear."

"As I am? 1 mean — you know "

"Why not?"

"But would they "

"Of course not," blandly and firmly decided
Gertrude, who had been brought up in Isling-
ton, where the enterprise of procreation pro-
ceeds on a vast scale and in a straightforward
spirit. Strange that in Gertrude's virginal
mentality such realism could coexist with such
innocent ingenuousness! But it was so.

When Gertrude had left, Lilian opened the
parcel. It was from Dr. Samson and con-
tained two books recommended and promised
by him about preparing for motherhood, and
motherhood, and cognate matters. The mere
titles of the chapters entranced her.

IV
THE NEW EMPLOYER

APPRECIABLY less than a year had
passed since she went down those office
stairs, thrust out by the implacable jealousy of
Miss Grig, and yet in that short time the stairs
had shrunk and become most painfully dingy.
The sight of them saddened her ; she wondered
how it was that their squalor had not affected
her before. She felt acutely sorry for the girl
named Lilian Share who in the previous au-
tumn used easily to run up them from bottom
to top, urged by the consciousness of being late.
Now, she had to take the second flight very
slowly. The door opened as she reached it,
and Gertie Jackson emerged to usher her in.
A dozen pairs of ears had been listening for
her arrival. The doors of both the large and
the small rooms were ajar, and she had
glimpses of watching faces as she went with
Gertrude into the principal's room. She was

284

The New Employer 285

intensely nervous and self-conscious, Gertrude
explained that Miss Grig had installed her
in the principal's room months ago, and Lilian
said that that was quite right, and Gertrude
said that she had hoped Lilian would approve.

Tea was laid on one of the desks, a dainty
tea, such a tea as Lilian had never seen in the
office, with more pastry than even two girls
could eat who had had no lunch and expected
no dinner; an extravagant display. Then a
flapper entered with the tea-pot and the hot-
water jug, and Lilian smiled at her, and the
flapper blushed and smiled and tossed her
winged pig-tail. The flapper had a shabby
air. Lilian could swallow only one cake be-
cause Gertrude was sitting where Felix had
sat when he first told her what she might do
and ought to do with herself.

"I am so glad you've cornel" said Gertrude,
in a sort of rapture. "Yes," Lilian agreed with
dignity. "I was bound to come, of course."

She felt wise and mature and tremendously
aware of her responsibilities ; and she intended
to remain so. Nobody should be able to say
of her that she had lost her head or that she was

286 Lilian

silly or weak or in any way unequal to her situ-
ation. Above all, Miss Grig should be forced
to continue to respect her.

"I suppose I'd better just go and see them
all now/' she suggested, after more tea.

"They'd be delighted if you would," said
Gertrude, as if the thing had not already been
arranged.

Naturally Lilian honoured the small room
first. The three inhabitants of the small room
— two of them were unknown to her — sprang
up, flattered, ruffled, flustered, excited, at her
entrance. There she stood, the marvellous, the
semi-legendary Lilian, who had captured the
aristocratic master, run off with him to the con-
tinent, married him, buried him, inherited all
his possessions, and was soon going to have a
baby. Her famous beauty was under eclipse,
her famous figure had grown monstrous be-
yond any possible concealment; but she was
still marvellous. She was the most romantic
figure that those girls had ever seen; she was
all picture-paper serials and cinema films rolled
together and come to life and reality. Her
prestige was terrific. She felt it and knew it

The New Employer 287

and acted on it. How pathetically common
the girls were, how slave-like I How cheap
their frocks! How very small the room (but
evidently it had been tidied for her visit)!
She recognized one of the old Underwoods by
a dent in its frame, and remembered the stain
on one of the green lampshades, and the pe-
culiarities of the woodwork of the absurdly
small mirror. She was touched; she might
have wept a little, but her great pride — in her
achievement, in her position, in her condition,
even in her tragic sorrow— upheld her safely.
Tenderly invited to sit down, she sat down,
and she put expert questions, to the wonder-
ment of practicing typists, thus proving that
she was not proud. And then with gracious
adieux she proceeded to the large room where,
though her stay was (properly) more brief,
she created still more sensation. In the large
room she surprised one or two surreptitious ex-
changes of glance betraying a too critical
awareness on the part of some that she had
sinned against the code and perhaps only saved
herself by the skin of her teeth. These unkind
exhibitions did not trouble her in the least.

288 Lilian

The demeanour of the more serious and best-
paid girls showed absolutely no arribre pensie,
and better than anybody else they know what
was what in the real world. Gertrude Jack-
son, the honest soul of purity, already adored
her employer.

As these two were returning to the princi-
pal's room the entrance-door opened and Milli-
cent Merrislate burst breathlessly in.

"How splendid !" exclaimed Gertrude.

She had sent a special message to Milly, and
Milly for a sight of her new mistress had got
up and come to the office two hours earlier than
her official time. Lilian was amazed and very
pleased. She remembered that she had once
spent at any rate one night of toil in perfect
friendliness with the queer, flat, cattish Milli-
cent; and now she insisted on Milly helping
them to eat cakes in the sacred room. The
scene was idyllic. A little later Lilian, having
arranged the details of Gertrude's temporary
removal to Montpelier Square, announced that
she must go, on account of some important
shopping. Gertrude, sternly watchful against
undue fatigue for Lilian, raised her eyebrows

The New Employer 289

at the mention of shopping, but Lilian reas-
sured her. A taxi was fetched by the flapper-
of -all-work, and, noticing then for the first
time that the road repairs in the neighbourhood
were all finished, and every trace of them van-
ished, Lilian gave the driver an address in
Piccadilly. Several girls were watching her
departure from the windows; her upward
glance caught them in the act, and the heads
disappeared sharply within.

"They are all working for mef she thought
with complacency, and could scarcely believe
the wonderful thing.

LAYETTE

THE pride of her reception in Clifford
Street wafted her easily up the some-
what austere stairs of the first floor establish-
ment in Piccadilly. She had long been familiar
with the face of the commissionaire, and the
brass signs of this mysterious shop, but never
till the leading word attracted her eyes as she
was driving from Montpelier Square to Clif-
ford Street had it occurred to her what the
word signified. The deceiving staircase led
to splendid rooms, indicating that the renown
of the establishment could not be spurious. A
bright and rosy young woman came smilingly
forward and gave Lilian a chair. One other
customer, a stout lady with her back to the
world, was being served in a distant corner.
A marvellous calm reigned, and the noise of
Piccadilly seemed to beat vainly against the
high, curtained windows.

290

Layette 291

"Layettes?" Lilian began questioningly,
with a strange exultation. The aspect of the
interior had revived her taste for luxury while
giving it a new direction,

"Yes, madam,"

The esoteric conversation was engaged,
Lilian sat entranced by the fineness and the
diminutiveness and the disconcerting elegance
of the display ranged abroad for her on the
glass counter. She was glad that through cul-
pable sloth she had done absolutely nothing as
yet with her own needle. It was the books from
Dr, Samson that had aroused her to the need
for action of some sort, for she had had no
wise woman to murmur in her eager ear the
traditions and the Spanish etiquette of cen-
turies of civilized maternity,

"I shall bring Gertie to see these tomor-
row," she thought, "It will please her fright-
fully to come, and she'll stop me from being
too extravagant. Only I must arrange it so
that her work won't be interfered with. Per-
haps at lunch time. Never do to upset disci-
pline right at the start!"

And she asked to see still more stock. The

292 Lilian

articles stimulated her memory and her imagi-
nation into a kind of tranquil and yet raptu-
rous contemplation of the events, voluptuous,
tender and tragic, which had set her where she
was. The thrill of conception, the long pa-
tience of gestation, the coming terror of la-
bour mingled all together in her now mystical
mind. Her destiny had been changed, or at
least it was gravely diverted. Instead of glit-
tering in public as the lovely darling and blos-
som of luxurious civilization, and in private
rendering a man to the highest possible degree
happy, — instead of this she was secretly and
obscurely building a monument, in her body
and also in her heart, to Felix — Felix whom
already she had raised to be the perfect man,
Felix who might have been alive then if she
had not one evening behaved like a child, or
if his sense of his duty towards her had not
been so imperious. ( Her common-sense had at
last cured her of regarding herself as his mur-
deress.) Whether she had loved him to the
height of which she was capable of passionate
love was doubtful. But she had profoundly
admired him ; she had been passionately grate-

Layette 293

ful to him for his love of her; and, come what
might when her beauty was restored to its em-
pire, no other man could ever stand to her in
the relation in which Felix had stood. He had
set his imprint upon her and created her a
woman. And so she was creating him a god.
All these movements of her brooding mind
originated from the spectacle of the articles on
the counter. They did not prevent her from
discussing layettes with the bright, rosy, shop-
girl. That innocent, charming and unimagi-
native young creature fingered the treasures
with the casualness of use. For her layettes
were layettes, existing of and for themselves;
they connoted nothing.

THE END

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